


Proud

by lillyluna



Series: Guide You Home [1]
Category: Sports RPF, Swimming RPF
Genre: Angst, Family, Future Fic, Kid Fic, M/M, Olympics, Original Character(s), Teen Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-05
Updated: 2014-05-25
Packaged: 2017-12-22 13:54:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 64,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/913972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lillyluna/pseuds/lillyluna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael and Ryan live through the Olympics as parents. Oliver Phelps-Lochte's first Olympic Games.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day One

**Author's Note:**

> My kidfic canon was started without Talan and most of my previous kidfic were written before I had my mind wrapped around the entire story of what would happen to Oliver. So while those stories are still there and I won't delete them most of them aren't really... relevant to this canon. Some of the details in this will conflict with "I've Got You Gator".

“Good morning and welcome,” The first NBC announcer cheerfully broadcasts, “To the first day of competition here in Rotterdam. It is early afternoon for us; swimming our first event of the day, Cycling and weightlifting to follow this afternoon.”  
  
“The medal count for the United States is at zero but that should all change in the next half hour and keep rising as the day goes on.” The second announcer continues, equally as cheerful.  
  
“On the block in lane five, we have the seventeen year old who will be trying to get us our first medal. We’ve seen him in heats and semi finals this morning but for most of you at home, this is your first glimpse of Oliver Phelps-Lochte in Rotterdam.”  
  
“Oliver who’s been getting so much attention coming into Rotterdam; one of our country’s strongest medal hopefuls for these games-"  
  
“But it really shouldn’t come as a surprise. Son of Michael Phelps and Ryan Lochte… Two of the best swimmers our country… the world really has ever seen. Coached by Bob Bowman.”  
  
“Who came out of retirement to coach his grandson. Bowman married now to Debbie Phelps-“  
  
“Oliver is currently coached by Bowman, formerly by Ryan Lochte. Michael Phelps surprisingly not listed as a coach. Swimming definitely a family affair. We’ve been watching Oliver swim in practice and in heats today and it does bring back memories. No doubt we’re going to witness greatness from him in this venue in the next ten days.”  
  
“Phelps-Lochte really coming out of the woodwork this year, side lined for the early part of last year due to a shoulder injury… Took everyone by surprise at trials qualifying for nine events all of which he plans on swimming at these games.”  
  
“One of the youngest athletes on Team USA, part of that group of teenagers who’ve really become the face of this entire Olympics team. Phelps-Lochte is expected to not only win gold in this event tonight but we’re also expecting to see him break his first of many world records.”  
  
“And what a group he has cheering him on! Dads Ryan and Michael who are no strangers to the Olympics with a more than impressive medal count between them. Michael Phelps still the most decorated Olympian of all times. Oliver no doubt having grown up in a home surrounded by Olympic gold maybe just minutes away from adding his own to the family collection.”  
  
“In the stands to the right of Michael Phelps, we can see his mom… Or should we say Grandma Debbie now, ready to cheer on her grandson like she cheered for Michael so many years ago. Same thing can be said for Ryan Lochte’s family sitting one row behind. Ryan Lochte who’s clearly been very influential in Oliver’s swimming career. Let us remind you that Oliver is swimming the same record breaking schedule Michael Phelps swam in Beijing with the addition of just one race; the 200 meter backstroke. A race Lochte really dominated during all his years on this team.”  
  
“If you look to Lochte’s left, you can see younger brother Talan who just took his seat. This is no doubt a group we’re going to become very familiar with at these games. Dads Michael and Ryan who haven’t been interviewed about their son yet but are scheduled to be in our studios later on tonight, no doubt so proud at what their… child really, Oliver is just seventeen, has already accomplished.”  
  
“Michael Phelps was fifteen in his first games, Ryan Lochte eighteen. They both have a good grasp on what it’s like for Oliver right now. They no doubt gave Oliver some good advice before sending him off.”  
  
“But do you think anyone really understand the pressure Oliver is facing today? Not only is he heading into these games having been highly publicized but let us not forget the legacy he is carrying on his shoulders. Not only is he swimming against the athletes in this pool, he’s also swimming against the times and the races his fathers have set before him. Carrying just one of their names into these events would be a huge responsibility but Oliver is carrying both.”  
  
“One of the greatest rivalries in Olympic history, now cheering together. Phelps and Lochte, both have been very protective of their private lives and of their children. Younger brother Talan did not sit with them during the earlier races or walk in with them this afternoon. The family took their seat at the last minute.”  
  
“There’s such a great focus at these games about the mothers of the athletes and here we have Phelps-Lochte who really is challenging the way the media handles families. He’s not the first athlete to come from same sex parents but he is definitely the most famous.”  
  
“Watching him race we get such… flashbacks to Michael Phelps, maybe not in Beijing but definitely in Athens-“  
  
“Though Oliver is expected to beat his medal count-“  
  
“Coached by Ryan Lochte until just a few years ago but clearly more comfortable with the butterfly-“  
  
“Almost broke a world record at trials-“  
  
“So he might be competing at the same level we witnessed watching Michael Phelps in Beijing.”  
  
“I had the chance to speak with Oliver off cameras after this morning’s heat and he is a charming, confident young man who’s excited and so proud to be here. He told us he couldn’t wait to see his family cheering him on.”  
  
“You asked him a few questions yes? Care to share some insight with our viewers.”  
  
“Well I asked him to share the best piece of advice he’s gotten from his parents about the Olympics and he answered that when he spoke to Michael Phelps on the phone last night, his last piece of advice was: ‘don’t go before the whistle.’”  
  
“I’m sure our very own Ryan Seacrest can get his parents to explain this piece of advice to us. Just to remind our viewers that we will have the only interview with Oliver Phelps-Lochte’s family, dads Ryan Lochte and Michael Phelps in our studio tonight. It will be broadcasted in prime time for those of you watching from home.”  
  
“All swimmers are now out, Oliver Phelps-Lochte the only swimmer qualified to finals for The United States. We bring you full coverage of the Men’s 200 freestyle live from Rotterdam right after this commercial break.”  
  
The NBC commentary isn’t being broadcast over the loudspeakers in the swimming venue. The roar of the crowd, quieter now that all the swimmers have stepped out, is mixed with the sound of hundreds of cameras shutters going off.  
  
Michael, Ryan and Talan sit on the edge of the first row. Ryan and Talan are half turned around to talk to Devon but Michael stares at the screen until the cameras focus on Oliver’s face.  
  
“He’s biting his nails.” Michael tells Ryan, hitting his husband’s knee with the back of his hand to get his attention, “He’s on the block biting his nails.”  
  
“I’d be too!” Talan defends, “This is insane.”  
  
Talan is obnoxiously dressed in what looks like every single American flag bearing item of clothing he owns. His shorts are red and Michael’s sure his socks are printed with stars and stripes. A pair of red, white and blue, Locthe sunglasses, long forgotten since London, is perched in the middle of his curly blonde hair. Even the frames of his regular glasses are red.  
  
Ryan turns around and drops an arm around Talan’s shoulders and rests his other hand on Michael’s knee. He waits for the camera to focus back on Oliver.  
  
 “Yeah he looks nervous.” Ryan agrees. He watches Oliver shake out his arms and flex his feet. “I told him to just not think about it.”  
  
“He’s good.” Michael decides, “He’s got this.”  
  
“We’re going to cheer for him sitting down.” Debbie says squeezing Michael’s arm, “Like normal-“  
  
“Mom,” Michael just laughs at her. “When’s the last time you cheered sitting down.”  
  
They’d spent the previous night at the opening ceremonies, the first they’d ever attended, and had cheered loudly when team USA had come into the stadium even though they knew Oliver wasn’t there. It had taken them hours to get back to their hotel afterwards and Talan had been bleary eyed when they’d first gotten to the swimming venue in the morning. They had watched Oliver race, he’d placed first in his heat and first in semi finals.  
  
But the stands hadn’t been full for the morning’s races and there had been less press.  
  
“Stop biting your nails Bud.” Michael implores, like Oliver will be able to telepathically receive the message, “I want to fix his goggles.”  
  
“This is worst than being up there.” Ryan groans.  
  
“I can feel the cameras on me.” Talan covers his face with his hands, “Like I can- Can I move back up? I can watch next to Grandma.”  
  
“No.” Ryan kisses Tal’s curls, “You’re staying next to us.”  
  
 _“Swimmers take your mark.”_  
  
“Wait Bud...” Michael whispers under his breath. He grabs hold of Ryan’s knee, something he knows the cameras won’t be able to pick up. “Don’t go-“  
  
“One swim meet when he was nine.” Ryan rolls his eyes.  
  
“He hasn’t chewed his nails since he was nine either.”  
  
“C’mon Gator.” Ryan has his arm around Talan; he squeezes his youngest son’s arm. Devon who’s sitting directly behind Ryan reaches to grip Ryan’s shoulder.  
  
“How many laps is 200?” Talan asks suddenly, he tries to shake off Ryan’s hand “Dad you’re hurting me. Leggo.”  
  
“Four. Sorry.” Ryan answers right as the buzzer goes off.  
  
They’re on their feet before Oliver’s fully in the water. Ryan stands up so fast he knocks Talan forward. He grabs the sleeve of Talan’s t-shirt to keep him from hitting he glass divider. Talan smashes both his knees into it anyways but keeps cheering.  
  
Talan yells louder than anyone and bangs his hands on the glass. He leans so far over it that Ryan keeps a death grip on the back of his t-shirt out of fear he’ll fall over.  
  
Oliver leads after the first turn but not by much.  
  
“He can go faster.” Talan turns to look at Ryan alarmed, “Why’s he not-“  
  
“He will Baby.” Ryan doesn’t look away from the pool and he stops talking to whistle, “Just wait until- GO GATOR! BRING IT HOME.”  
  
Right before his last turn Oliver has half a body length over anyone else in the pool.  
  
“Breathe Mike.” Ryan puts one hand on the back of Michael’s neck when Oliver takes his last turn, “COME ON OLIVER!”  
  
“YOU GOT THIS BUDDY.” Michael yells, “KEEP GOING.”  
  
It’s unmistakable that Oliver hits the wall first but Ryan and Michael’s eyes are automatically trained to the board. In the water, Oliver does the same. He breathes hard and loosely holds his swim cap and his goggles in his hands.  
  
 When his name shows up first with the green “WR” note next to the time, Oliver slaps his arm in the water and shouts. The crowd goes crazy.  
  
“WAY TO GO BUD!” Michael yells, “THAT’S OUR BOY.”  
  
Michael wipes his tears with the back of his hand and reaches around Ryan to hug Talan. Talan’s knocked the sunglasses off his head and the back of his t-shirt is stretched out from Ryan’s grip but he’s still cheering just as loud as anyone else.  
  
“YEAH GATOR!” Ryan screams over everyone close by, he whistles loudly and Oliver’s head instinctively turns towards them. “ATTA BOY.”  
  
Before getting out of the pool, Oliver points up at the stands and grins. Talan points back at him.  
  
*  
  
Oliver walks to the podium with a rumpled podium jacket and untied shoelaces but the grin on his face is so big that Ryan understands how the volunteers let him leave the ready room looking a mess.  
  
Oliver waves and smiles at the crowd and gets a huge cheer. He sings every word of the national anthem and shakes hands with the other medalists before getting off the podium and running towards the stands.  
  
After Ryan’s last race in Rio Michael had handed a then three-year-old Oliver down from the crowd over to Ryan on the deck. Not being able to hug Ryan had been tough but not being able to hug Oliver is the hardest thing Michael’s ever had to do. He grabs onto Oliver’s arm and reaches down to ruffle his still wet hair.  
  
Oliver stands on his tiptoes and reaches up for anyone he can touch. He throws his flowers up to Ryan and holds up his medal for everyone to see.  
  
“I did it.” Oliver boasts excited and proud. “For you, I did it!”  
  
“We’re so proud of you Bud.” Michael holds onto the side of Oliver’s face. “You killed it.”  
  
“You were awesome Gator.” Ryan clasps Oliver’s hand and grins down at him, “Way to show them up.”  
  
“I could hear you Baby.” Oliver tells Talan, “Over like everyone else. Nice shorts.”  
  
“You’re insane.” Talan grins down at him, “That was insane.”  
  
“We love you Bud.” Ryan wants to jump the barrier because not being able to hug your kid after he’s won medal is definitely harder than not being able to hug your family after you’ve won a medal.  
  
“I did good?” Oliver looks from Michael to Ryan for approval.  
  
“Look around your neck Ols, you did good.”  
  
“But like for you.” Oliver insists leaning against the hand Ryan has on his face.  
  
“You don’t even know Gator.” Ryan says, “We’re so proud.”  
  
The cameras that are crowding Oliver are pointed up directly at them. One of the photographers uses a flash right in Talan’s face and Talan is blinded for a few seconds. He blinks furiously, drops his grip on Oliver’s fingertips and steps back from the barrier. When Talan opens his eyes again he steps out of their row and goes to sit one row back. Squeezing himself between Brady, Devon’s oldest son, and his grandmother.  
  
“Don’t do that?” Oliver turns around to ask the mob of press. “Like that’s rude. Back off. Seriously.”  
  
Oliver ignores the cameras and holds on tight to both Ryan and Michael’s arms until a volunteer squeezes through the crowd with security. She taps Oliver on the shoulder and tells him something.  
  
“I gotta go.” Oliver says once he turns away from her. His face looks sad and he tilts it up against Ryan’s hand. “I wanna be with you it’s not fair.”  
  
“Go Bud.” Michael ruffles his hair one last time “We’ll see you tomorrow. We love you.”  
  
“Nine days and you’re with us Gator.” Ryan pats Oliver’s cheek, “We miss you too.”  
  
“Dude I miss you.” Talan yells down from his new seat, “We got basketball tickets.”  
  
“I’m gonna try to see you.” Oliver promises, “They gotta let me.”  
  
“We love you dude.” Ryan repeats. He leans as far as he can over the crowd barrier, “You did good.”  
  
The cameras follow Oliver across the pool deck and once he’s walked off the deck they flock back to them. Talan doesn’t come back to his original seat. When Michael looks back to check on him before the next race begins, Talan’s resting his head against Ike’s shoulder scrolling through his phone.  
  
“Baby.” Michael shoves at his legs, “You’re not watching.”  
  
“Oliver’s not swimming.” Talan explains matter of fact like it’s information Michael should already know, “It’s not even like… something he does the like forward one.”  
  
“They all go forward Tal.”  
  
“You know what I mean.” Tal insists, “We should go see if Ols is talking to cameras. I wanna see him talk.”  
  
“He won’t be right now.” Ryan explains, “They’ll wait until this race is over and send everyone together.”  
  
“Will they let us in?” Talan asks, “Like to see him?”  
  
“Probably not Baby.” Ryan tells him, “But we’ll watch before we go back.”  
  
Talan nods, disappointed and focuses back on his phone.  
  
*  
                                    

    
 “How does it feel Oliver?”

Oliver’s face hurts from smiling and his throat feels hoarse from yelling. There are still spots in his vision from the hundred camera flashes that greeted him when he walked into the pressroom. He can feel the weight of the medal hanging from his neck and he runs his fingers along the raised edges.

“Awesome.” He grins, “To be here and have this, it’s just awesome. Awesome.”

“Your first gold medal,” Another reporter calls out, “And a world record. You have eight more events scheduled how do you plan on keeping yourself going?”

“Right now I feel good.” Oliver reaches for the pen in front of him and plays with it, “It’s what I’ve been training for and I’m just taking it one race at a time… It’s gotta be fun and I like racing.”

In the hallway outside the room, Michael and Ryan watch the interview on a large screen along with the press that didn’t get a spot in the room. Michael has his arm slung around Talan’s shoulder.

“Oh God.” Michael groans at the racing comment, “Your child Lochte.”

“Yeah.” Ryan wipes a tear away, “My Gator.” He says proudly.

“Can we like go in?” Talan asks. “I don’t get it he’s like ours why can’t we see him?”

They’d lost Talan in the crowd moments earlier. He had let go of his grip on Ryan’s t-shirt to go look at the Olympic mascots walking around. Swallowed by the huge crowd exiting the swimming venue it had taken fifteen minutes and three security agents to find him. Talan had looked puzzled when he’d been escorted back to them by security who wouldn’t let go of his obnoxiously bright American flag t-shirt.  Michael had threatened to put him on a leash.

“Probably not until his races are over Baby.” Ryan tells him.

Talan doesn’t understand why Oliver can’t come back to sleep in the hotel suite they’ve rented for the games. Because Talan’s the kid who’d called home every single night he’d spent at basketball camp earlier that summer. Talan doesn’t get why they can’t just wait for Oliver and go out for pizza like they’ve done at every other meet Oliver’s had in the past two years.

“You can’t go in.” A harried looking volunteer puts her hand over the door handle. “You’re welcome to watch the press conference with the other family members but this area is reserved for press.”

“We have credentials.” Ryan flashes his card at her. “He’s Michael Phelps.”

“These don’t allow you in.” The volunteer tells them again, “You can go watch with the other families.” She repeats

“We don’t get to see him?” Talan ducks under Ryan’s arm to be closer to the woman in the purple jacket, “But my dads are like…” He stops to think, “Important…”

“There’s a live feed from the family area.” She explains again, “We can drive you over in a golf cart.”

She doesn’t give them any other options and the same security guards who had found Talan escort them onto the golf cart. One of them sits next to the driver and the other one sits next to Talan at the very back.

“I hope they didn’t treat my mom this way.” Ryan mutters under his breath as they’re driven across the venue.

People take their pictures as they walk towards the doors of the family area. Michael pushes Talan in behind Ryan, trying to shield him as much as he can.  Oliver is up on screen when they walk in.

“It’s been a really challenging year yeah.” Oliver runs a hand through his hair, “But I had goals to get me here and I worked really hard to take those seconds off my times. I grew a few inches too, so that helped… The wall was definitely closer after that.”

“And with your shoulder surgery-“ The reporter adds on.

“A lot of people doubted me cause of it.” Oliver shrugs, “Like they said I came back too soon or that I wouldn’t be able to swim… And that’s ridiculous because my family wouldn’t have let me come back if I wasn’t okay. I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t okay, people actually care about me you know. Hopefully I proved people wrong today and they’ll stop pretending to know what’s best for me.”

“That’s your kid.” Ryan tells Michael leaning back against his chest.

The next question isn’t directed at Oliver. While he listens, Oliver taps the ends of his pen against the table and leans forward to hear his teammate answer. His eyes scan the room once before settling on one of the television screens near the back. His face instantly lights up when the other swimmer mentions Michael Phelps and the feed cuts to Michael and Ryan watching the press conference.

“JEAH!” Oliver yells out, interrupting the other swimmers, “My dads are there!! Hi!”

Michael shakes his head and waves at the camera pointed at him, Ryan grins and waves too.

“My dads are really awesome.” Oliver keeps talking out of turn. He waves back at a camera. “Like you don’t even know. I wish I was with them.”

*

_“Oliver no doubt having grown up in a home surrounded by Olympic gold maybe just minutes away from adding his own to the collection.”_

“This is so stupid.” Talan rolls his eyes at the television, “I’ve never even seen your medals.”

“What Baby?” Ryan turns around from the two shirts Michael’s holding up for him to judge, “Sorry I wasn’t listening to the tv.”

“They said.” Talan presses the mute button, “That we grew up surrounded by gold medals. I’ve never seen a gold medal.”

“They’re gonna say a lot of stuff that isn’t true Tal.” Michael reminds him.

Talan leans his head back over the arm of the sofa and stares upside down at his dads. “Where d’you keep ‘em?”

“In a box.” Ryan says before pointing to the red shirt Michael’s holding, “It’s in the basement somewhere.”

_“Carrying just one of their names into these events would be a huge responsibility but Oliver is carrying both.”_

“Are you really that big a deal?” Talan asks not moving his head. He reaches to keep his glasses on his face, “Like they’re talking about you like-“

“No.” Michael answers.

“Yes.” Ryan answers at the same time.

Talan rolls his eyes a when they do a close up of Oliver’s face and freeze frames through it laughing at Oliver’s expressions.

“What’s Ols doing now?” Talan asks, rewinding the video to make Oliver dive out of the water to stand back on his block. “Besides missing me.”

“Eating?” Ryan tries, “I don’t know Baby.”

Ryan settles himself on the couch next to Talan and steals the remote from him he presses play and re-watches Oliver win gold. Hours after it happened he still can’t help but grin and cheer when Oliver hits the wall.

“I look like a dork.” Talan groans when the camera focuses on his face, “Why are they filming me?”

“We’re there for Ols. Not the cameras.” Ryan rewinds to watch Oliver race again. “Don’t worry about them.”

“How’s he so fast?” Talan asks leaning his head against Ryan, “Like they’re all doing the same thing why’s he so far ahead. He’s not the tallest.”

“He worked really hard.” Ryan replies without hesitating, “His feet bend all-“

“Yeah that’s gross. I hate when he does that.”

“I didn’t know you guys were watching his race.” Michael sits on the back of the couch behind them and rests one of his hands on Ryan’s shoulder. He’s wearing the red shirt Ryan picked out.

They watch the rest of the race in silence. Michael laughs when the camera focuses on them cheering. They watch the replays and the side-by-side recomposed video of Oliver, Michael and Ryan swimming the same race side by side.

“He beat us.” Ryan laughs.

“He did awesome.” Michael squeezes Ryan’s shoulder just as Oliver walks back out for the medal ceremony.

Talan’s smart comments stop and Ryan reaches up to put his hand over Michael’s while they watch Oliver get his medal. Before breaking back to commercial they show clips of Michael and Ryan getting medals in Athens.

“How old are you there?” Talan asks, craning his head up to look at Michael.

“Eighteen.” Michael laughs at the picture of Ryan with the laurel wreath in his hair and the crazy grin on his face.  “That’s when I met your dad.”

 “You look funny.” Talan tells Ryan.

Michael laughs because Ryan’s eighteen year old face isn’t that much different from Tal’s fifteen year old one.

“What are we doing tonight?” Talan stops watching the coverage when they start showing the cycling highlights, “Like before the basketball game.”

“Want to come watch us do an interview?” Michael asks Talan.

“Is it gonna be fun?”

“Probably not.”

“No thank you then.”

“You still gotta come Baby.” Ryan gets up and reaches for all their credentials on the coffee table, “We won’t have time to get you before the game.”

“I’m not talking.” Talan warns, “Like I’m not going on camera. Like not to… Not at all.”

“We’re not going to make you if you don’t want to.” Michael reassures him, “Trust us.”

“Please don’t talk about me.” Talan begs, “Like don’t.”

“So I should just leave your baby pictures here?” Ryan mocks.

“Dad.” Talan looks dead serious, “Don’t.”

“ _Join us tonight for our prime time coverage of these Olympic games, Ryan Seacrest interviews Ryan Lochte and Michael Phelps. Our exclusive interview with the family of Oliver Phelps-Lochte, gold medalist.”_

“Ryan Seacrest?” Michael groans, “How’s he not retired.”

“He’s been like waiting 15 years to talk to us again.” Ryan shakes his head, “Swear to god we can’t get away.”  
“Who’s Ryan Seacrest?” Talan asks, “Why’s he been waiting?”

“No one told me it was Ryan Seacrest.” Michael starts flipping through his emails, “Did you know it was Ryan Seacrest.”

“You think I woulda said yes to spending time with him?” Ryan argues back.

“I don’t know you were pretty good friends with him before Rio.” Michael looks up from his phone smiling.

“Really?” Ryan answers, “Seventeen years and you’re gonna bring it up?”

“You sent him pictures of Oliver from the hospital!” Michael reminds him, “You sent those pics to our family AND to Ryan Seacrest.”

“I had a lot of phone numbers after London.” Ryan defends himself, “I was half asleep and you were like making me do it… the Australian women’s handball team got it too.”

“Should I be here?” Talan rolls his eyes at both of them, “Cause like-“

“Go change Baby.” Ryan turns away from Michael to talk to his son, “Like one American flag is enough when Oliver isn’t racing.”

“These are my only shorts though.” Talan explains, “Like what d’you want me to wear.”

“You brought one pair of shorts?” Ryan asks him outraged, “One pair?”

“Yeah like… How many do I need?” Talan answers back in the same outraged toned.

“Your child. Swear to-” Ryan points from Michael to Talan. “Show me your suitcase Talan.”

Talan will eventually be sharing his room with Oliver so only one side of the bedroom looks lived in. Oliver’s extra suitcase and his suit are hung up on the pristine side of the room near the door.

Talan walks Ryan over to a bright orange bag with a turtle shaped ID tag, “Here you go.”

“Is there anything I don’t want to see in here?” Ryan asks not touching the bag.

“What?” Talan grimaces at him in confusion, “No? Like what would I… Ugh gross. Dad. Come on.”

None of Talan’s clothes are folded and Ryan suddenly regrets letting him pack his own suitcase. In it he finds five bags of Oreo cookies, twenty pairs of socks, one wrinkled suit and only a handful of clothes.

“Are you serious?” Ryan holds up a bag of Oreos, “You got five of these and only one pair of shorts?”

“You didn’t say to pack ‘em!” Talan argues, “You said bring what you’re gonna wear. So here!” He points to his outfit.

“Oh yeah this is my fault.” Ryan groans and stands up. “We’re gonna have to see what Ols packed until we figure something else.”

“What’s wrong with this.” Talan points to his outfit. “Ols stuff ain’t gonna fit. He’s like way taller and not…”

“You’re not that much bigger Tal.” Ryan says knowing Tal’s self conscious about not being as skinny as his brother. “It’ll fit. Don’t worry.”

“I don’t get what’s wrong with this.” Talan rolls his eyes and sits on his bed. “If you wanted me to bring more shorts you shoulda said so.”

Everything in Oliver’s suitcase is folded and separated into different compartments. Ryan finds a pair of khaki shorts and breathes a sigh of relief.

“Here.” He throws them to Tal, “Put those on.”

“These aren’t baggy enough.” Talan wrinkles his nose as he looks at the shorts.

“If you wanted your own shorts you should have packed them.” Ryan reminds him, “We’ll go find some tomorrow or get someone to send more clothes. Change.”

Talan looks like he’s about to argue for a second but he just grabs the shorts and heads towards the bathroom of their room.

Ryan shakes his head at their youngest son one more time before he grabs one of the bags of oreos and walks out.

*

“Has it really sunk in yet? Have you gotten to the point where you can wrap your head around the whole ‘my son is an Olympian’” Ryan Seacrest grins as he talks to them across the coffee table of the NBC set.

Ryan Seacrest had tried to talk Talan into sitting beside them for the interview and Talan had looked like he was about to be sick. Ten minutes before they had reached the set both Michael and Ryan had been reminded of how much the both hated Olympic interviews.

“No.” Michael shakes his head, “We’ve seen him win a medal and it’s still hard to… We know all the hard work he’s put in and the sacrifices he’s made so in a way it has but watching him get his medal was surreal.”

“He looked really grown up out there today.” Ryan adds, “That was hard to wrap our heads around too.”

“The cameras caught him biting his nails.” Ryan Seacrest points to a screen behind them, “Is that something that-“

“It was the biggest race he’s ever swam. We knew he was going to be nervous… Everyone has nervous habits.” Ryan defends, not ready to talk about the details of Oliver’s life.

“He looks a lot like you up there.” Ryan Seacrest points from the screen to Michael, “And technique wise there’s been a lot of comparison.”

“He’s his own person.” Michael insists, “And he’s a lot like Ryan. He swims because it’s fun.”

There’s awkward silence that neither Ryan nor Michael choose to fill.

“When did you first know he had Olympic potential?” Ryan Seacrest asks, “I mean being who you are was it something you looked for specifically or was it expected that he-”

Ryan stops listening and has to fight the urge to grimace because they’d known it would end up this way. Michael and him had guessed that this would be how Oliver would be marketed; as the product of the most successful private swim school ever created. As the prodigy child of parents who had no doubt put him in race school as soon as he could doggy paddle.

“No.” Michael interrupts the question, “We taught both our kids to swim so they would be safe. They grew up on the beach… We had a pool in the backyard. We know how important water safety is. Oliver loves to swim and any parent’s going to help their kid do what they love. He could have quit at any point and we would have been happy with his decision. Being an Olympian is definitely not something we expected out of either of our kids.”

“You have to be proud though.”

“We’ve always been proud of him.” Ryan shrugs it off. “We’re always been proud of both our kids.”

“I know your other son doesn’t want to be interviewed… I saw him walk in and he’s in our green room right now… But if we had to Talan and Oliver what it was like growing up with two famous Olympians as parents… What do you think their answers would be?”

“That they had no idea.” Michael laughs, “We worked hard to raise our kids away from the spotlight. We don’t live like celebrities… We drove them to school and ate dinner with them every night. We were in the PTA and went to basketball games. Our medals aren’t up in our house and we don’t spend time watching old races.”

“Today’s the first time Talan saw us at the Olympics when we were younger.” Ryan adds, “We were watching Oliver’s race over again and the footage you had of us was the first time he’d ever seen it… So I don’t think you would get an answer, to them we’re pretty boring dads.”

“But you raised an exceptional child.” Ryan Seacrest keeps insisting.

“Oliver’s a good kid.” Ryan agrees, “This is something he wanted and he pushed himself harder than we were willing to let him most of the time.”

“As parents,” Ryan Seacrest takes on a more serious tone, “You’ve been getting a lot of negative press for letting him swim so soon after his shoulder surgery… A lot of experts have said the surgery was unnecessary at such a young age and-“

“No parent wants to see their kids hurt.” Michael interrupts, “Oliver didn’t get surgery to make him a better swimmer, he got it to fix his shoulder. It had nothing to do with swimming.”

“Anyone who didn’t treat him shouldn’t get an opinion.” Ryan states firmly, “If he’s out there swimming it means he’s okay. We wouldn’t let him swim if he was hurt.”

The silence in the studio is awkward and it takes a moment for Ryan Seacrest to get his composure back. He takes a sip of water and glances at the prompter before he asks his next question.

“In Beijing,” He starts, “And in many other Olympics you’ve said Michael that the first race often sets the tone for the rest of the games. How do you think the rest of these games are looking for Oliver?”

“He can do it.” Ryan automatically says, “We don’t have one doubt that he’s not able to do everything he’s set his mind to and he proved that today. Now that he’s dealt with the crowd… His confidence is back up and he’ll be good.”

“We’re taking it one race at a time and we know he’s taking it once race at a time. We love him and we’re proud of him no matter what.” Michael says, feeling like he’s repeating something for the fifth time.

“Once his races are over.” Ryan Seacrest starts wrapping up, “What are your plans?”

“We’re not sure yet.” Michael shrugs, “I think we’re just going to enjoy our time as a family for the rest of the summer before we have to pack him up and send him to college.”

“What’s that going to be like?”

Michael shakes his head and hopes Ryan will answer for them because he can’t talk about Oliver leaving just yet. Can’t imagine Oliver living so far away from home.

“It’s gonna be hard.” Ryan bravely answers, “We’re a close family and not having him around… That’s gonna take awhile to get used to.”

“When you’re cheering.” Ryan Seacrest keeps pressing, “What do you call him.”

“I’ve been calling him Gator since he was born.” Ryan admits, “So that’s what I yell.”

“I got a picture of him when he was born.” Ryan Seacrest announces, “You sent me an email and-“

“I got a little excited.” Ryan avoids Michael’s stare, “A lot of people got those pictures.”

“He was born early yes?”

“Um yeah.” Ryan’s not sure he’s willing to admit this much about their personal lives on live television. The four-pound baby he’d held against his chest in the NICU and the kid with a gold medal around his neck smiling from the screen seem like two entirely different people. “He’s always been a fighter.”

“You said he looked grown up out there today, was that hard to watch?”

“No.” Michael says, “It’s… We’re proud of him and what he’s doing and that’s all I felt. Just proud.”

“Ryan, I interviewed you after you were done your races in Rio.” Ryan Seacrest points to the screen behind them again, “And you were holding Oliver… Something the IOC got very upset about, I remember the officials waiting behind our cameras.”

“That got me more trouble than the grill.” Ryan laughs.

“Did you think holding him in Rio… He was what… Two?”

“He was about to turn three, yeah.” Ryan remembers, “He was falling asleep.”

“Did you think holding him back then that you’d be here now?”

“No.” Ryan answers, “We’ve said it before but we never expected him to be here… We just wanted him to grow up to be a good person and he is. All of us, we’re so proud of him.”

“Well.” Ryan Seacrest turns towards the camera, “That about wraps up our time for tonight. Oliver Phelps-Lochte will be swimming two races tomorrow and we will have live coverage of them as well as prime time recaps. I want to thank you both again for being here tonight and really from all of us here and I’m sure everyone watching at home… Good luck to your family and to Oliver.”

As soon as the director cuts to commercial, Michael stands up hands his microphone to a PA, he turns back to take off Ryan’s and hands it over too. They both shake hands with Ryan Seacrest, with the producers and with the parents of one of the gymnasts before slipping away reminding whoever will listen that they have a younger son who wants to catch the first basketball game.

“I don’t like him.” Talan grimaces once they walk back into the green room, “He’s a jerk.”

“Yeah he is Baby.” Michael steals a carrot from Tal’s plate.

“Can we go see the game now.” Tal holds up their tickets, “I don’t wanna be late.”

“Yeah.” Ryan reassures, “We’re gonna get there. They’re driving us over.”

Talan walks out of the green room next to Michael and leans against his side. Michael takes the hint and drops his arm over Talan’s shoulders.

“You know we’re proud of you too Baby right?” He reminds him, “Not just Oliver.”

Talan nods.

“I love you.” Michael tells him, holding a door open for Ryan and Talan to walk through “You’re important.” He adds once he’s back next to Tal, something they’ve been telling both boys since they were babies.

“I know.” Talan rolls his eyes.

“No.” Michael doesn’t want Talan to brush this off, “It’s a ton of attention on Oliver right now but you’re important to.”

“I know.” Talan insists, he holds up the basketball tickets, “We’re gonna see basketball. I’m good.”

Neither of them have ever been in Talan’s shoes, they’ve never been the siblings in the stands and as worried as they are about Oliver they’re also worried about Talan. Talan didn’t choose this.

Devon, their designated expert in the field of the sibling Olympic experience had insisted that he’d never felt ignored or slighted while Ryan had been competing. That he hadn’t wanted the attention Ryan got and was weary when part of it was directed towards him. They’d promised to shield Talan from the cameras and the press as much as possible.

“Hey Baby.” Ryan drops in beside Talan and Michael, “You know we’re-“

“I know.” Talan complains, “I’m important, you love me, I know.” He looks at Ryan, “I know.”

“Punk.” Ryan messes up his hair, “Who d’you thinks gonna win?”

They follow the NBC PA to the studio door and wait as security figures out which car is theirs.

“Brazil.” Talan decides following Michael towards a car emblazoned with the purple logo of the games, “I don’t think Australia can beat ‘em.”

“Yeah? Wanna put money on it?” Ryan slides into the car beside Talan and closes the door behind him. He grabs the middle seat belt and hands it to Talan to buckle.

“You pay my allowance.” Talan tugs more slack from the belt and buckles up, “So you’re like betting against yourself.”

Ryan just laughs, buckles his own seat belt and waits for the car to start moving, they have twenty minutes before the start of the game and he hopes they don’t miss too much of it.

“Oliver wants real time updates from the game.” Talan calls out when he checks his phone.

“He can watch the game from the village.” Michael points out, “Tell him.”

“Nah.” Talan shakes his head, “Grandpa made him go to bed.”

“It’s nine!” Ryan exclaims.

“That’s Bob.” Michael rolls his eyes. “Tell Ols to put his phone away, grandpa’s gonna check on him.”

“You tell him.” Talan texts something else back to Oliver, he waits for an answer, “Man… I’m glad I’m not him.”

*  
Talan falls asleep in the car on the way back from the basketball game and sleepily follows them back to the room.

“Hopefully he changes.” Ryan says before taking his shirt off and slipping into bed beside Michael, “We don’t have time to wash those shorts before the first heat.”

“Let him wear whatever.” Michael says.

“You would wear whatever.” Ryan answers before yawning, “Being on the other side of this is exhausting.”

“Yeah,” Michael agrees, “It is. I had Ols last time I did this.”

“We did good.” Ryan says, “Like he knows we’re proud.”

“Yeah,” Michael agrees again, “We did good.”

Ryan turns off the bedside lamp and settles down against his pillow, he rubs one of his legs against Michael’s and Michael turns around to kiss him.

“Eight more.” Michael says once he pulls away.

Michael turns away from Ryan to make sure his phone is on and the volume is loud in case Oliver needs to reach him in the middle of the night. When he turns back Ryan’s already asleep.

He lays awake for a bit longer listening to Ryan mumble nonsense below his breath before he sneaks out of bed to go check on Talan.

Talan’s sleeping with the blankets pulled up over his head but with his feet uncovered. Michael grabs the unused comforter from the second bed and puts it over Talan’s feet. He picks up Talan’s shorts, wallet, credentials and t-shirt and puts them down on the desk, careful to fold the shorts.

“Go to bed Dad.” Talan mumbles half asleep, “Sto-op.”

Michael opens his mouth to apologize but Talan’s already pulled the covers back over his head. Michael walks out and walks back to his room.

“Come to bed Mike.” Ryan mumbles.

Once he’s back next to Ryan, Ryan snuggles in closer and brings the covers over both of them. Mike’s transported back to similar nights in Athens and Beijing and at every other competition in between when he’d been too nervous to sleep and Ryan had used his body to keep him in bed.

“The dudes are good.” Ryan says quietly, slurring some of his words, “Just be proud and go to sleep. We got eight more days of this.”

“Yeah.” Michael checks his phone again one last time before pressing himself up against Ryan’s body heat, “Eight more days.”


	2. Olympic Trials

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you don't like this don't read it. Like really I'm not forcing you to.

**Olympic Trials**

**St. Louis, Missouri**

**June**

 

Michael and Ryan have Oliver backed into a corner of the hallway near the locker rooms. They’ve both pulled every string they have to get credentials that allow them to be in the athletes’ areas. Oliver hadn’t been impressed when he’d learned his parents had unlimited access to him.

“Don’t go before the signal.” Michael starts. “Focus. Pull up your jammers.”

This is the most important event Oliver’s ever competed in and this is the first time he’s eligible to make the Olympic team. It’s the first time his name is brought up with times attached to it in serious conversation. It’s the first time he’s being seen as a serious competitor instead of just a kid with famous parents.

Michael feels that the advice he’s giving Oliver is more appropriate for his first swim meet than for team trials.

“Dad.” Oliver rolls his eyes, seemingly feeling the same way, “I’m not-“

“It’s just another meet Ols.” Ryan says, “All it is. Have fun.”

“Don’t be nervous, you know your times.” Michael keeps his grip tight on Oliver’s arm, “Dig deep.”

Oliver has a brutal schedule and almost twenty years removed from living through it Michael remembers how much it had hurt to swim that many races.

“Stop it.” Oliver groans, “I’m fine dad. I’m okay.”

“Just have fun.” Ryan reinforces.

The hallway is busy and people stare at them as they walk by, a few hover hoping to catch Ryan or Michael’s attention but both of them are too focused on Oliver to pay attention to anyone else.

“People are staring.” Oliver pleads, “It’s bad enough that I’m-“

“It’s because your dad’s hot. They’re not looking at you.” Michael brushes off Oliver’s concerns.

“You can go now.” Oliver urges, “Like thanks but…”

“Go kick ass.” Ryan ruffles Oliver’s hair and kisses the top of his head.

“We’re in public.” Oliver points out, “No one else’s parents are-” He looks around the hallway again before staring at Ryan embarrassed.

“Do your best Bud.” Michael hugs Oliver close, ignoring his complaint “It’s all I want.”

Oliver hugs Michael back. Oliver won’t say it but he’s glad his parents are there with their stupid passes to spy on him. He’s more nervous than he’s ever been. This morning at his first practice his toes had curled around the block just like they had the first time he’d dived from one. Back then, Ryan had been in the pool waiting for him but now it was just him and the best swimmers in the country. Guys who were older than him and bigger than him and who shot him dirty looks in the locker room. Guys that thought he didn’t belong there.

Oliver feels small but he’s noticed how the other swimmers look at his dads and he knows he’s lucky to have them on his side. Wearing their names on his cap lets him walk out of with his head held high.

“You got this.” Ryan rubs his hand against Oliver’s bad shoulder.

Oliver reaches out to rub his hand against his own shoulder and Ryan spots him reaching for the tiny incision scars.

“You worked hard to be here.” Michael repeats, “Prove it.”

“Call us.” Ryan reminds him.

“Don’t worry.” Oliver rolls his eyes at Ryan this time, “I’m with grandpa. You got those stupid passes to spy on me.”

“We love you.” Michael says.

It’s useless to use I because it’s always been we. What Michael is prouder than anything is how Ryan and him have stayed together through fights and busy work schedules. That Talan and Oliver have grown up knowing nothing but unconditional love. That his kids roll their eyes when they’re told they’re loved because they know.

“I’m not dying.” Oliver laughs. He pats Michael on the arm, “I’m just swimming. I gotta go or Grandpa’s going to be mad. He doesn’t care it’s your fault.”

“Go.” Ryan finally says because he knows Michael won’t. “We’ll be watching.”

“It’ll be okay.” Oliver pats Michael’s arm again, “You can call me.”

“I think.” Michael says watching Oliver walk into the locker room, “I felt like this when we took him to school the first day.”

“He’s fine.” Ryan reassures, “We lived.”

“Yeah but I care about him.”

“Wow thanks.” Ryan laughs, “Let’s go before they kick us out for being creepers.”

As they walk away, Michael drops an arm around Ryan shoulders and feels him sigh. Someone stops them for autographs just outside the door and pretty soon there’s a crowd around them. The kind that still makes Michael nervous but that Ryan enjoys.

This is why they’re worried about Oliver. They’re worried because ESPN had picked up the story of Oliver’s shoulder surgery. Because producers for shows they’ve never heard of are trying to book interviews. They’re worried because Oliver’s already been on the cover of Sports Illustrated with the word Legacy printed above his head. They’re worried because even though Oliver is one of the top swimmers in the country people still complain that he’s only at trials as a publicity stunt. That he’s there because sponsors know his name will sell tickets.

They worry because for the first time since Rio their family life is on display. Suddenly the talk about them being gay has resumed and Oliver is left to answer awkward questions about growing up with same sex parents.

They didn’t know how the press would handle Oliver but they could guess how much scrutiny they were about to face as a family. Michael and Ryan had decided not to bring Talan. They had sent him to a basketball camp that took place precisely during trials to protect him.  
They’re able to still control access to Talan but bringing Oliver to trials feels like throwing him into a pit of hungry lions.

When the races start, Michael thinks he might die because there’s nothing he can do about anything. He’s sure his voice just melts in with the other people screaming and he can’t yell at Oliver to hold his arms up instead of leaving them by his side while he’s on the starting block.

Their eyes are glued to Oliver from the moment he steps out of the ready room and Michael’s never seen Ryan look this stressed out.

Despite the pressure and the weird questions during press conferences Oliver does better at trials than anyone expected. It takes him awhile to get into the swing of things. On his first day Oliver qualifies last in his first heat and makes semi finals by a half second.

Michael had recognized Bob’s tight lip stare and the anger on Oliver’s face. It’s not until Oliver wins his first final that Ryan and Michael feel like they can breathe.

*

At the end of his ninth final, Oliver’s name is first on the board, like it’s been for every final he’s swam. Ryan whistles loudly but Michael squints looking at time next to Oliver’s name.

“That’s not his best.” Michael mutters once Ryan’s stopped making an ungodly amount of noise.

“What?” Ryan looks at him incredulous.

“He should have beat the record.” Michael says frustrated.

“Your record?”

“Yes you know it. He’s over his time by-”

“Yeah I know.” Ryan reluctantly agrees, “But like he won.”

Oliver waves at the crowd briefly before leaning his head against the lane dividers. His shoulders heave and he reaches back to slip off his swim cap. He’s not celebrating.

Michael is sure that Oliver’s swam as hard as he has to shut everybody up. That he isn’t swimming to get to the Olympics as much as he’s swimming to prove that he’s not a gimmick. Michael guesses that at the end of the day Oliver loves swimming just as much as he loved his AP algebra class. That he cares about gold medals as much as he cared about being valedictorian. That Oliver works hard to achieve what he thinks will make other people proud and happy.

Oliver had first told them he wanted to go to Harvard when he was eight. When his early acceptance letter had come he’d cried. Oliver had never talked about the Olympics and when he’d qualified for his first event all he had done was smile.

“He’s qualified for nine races.” Ryan reminds Michael with an edge to his voice, “You want to give him a hard time for not breaking a world record?” He shakes his head in disapproval.

“Something’s up.” Michael insists, “Like it’s not right.”

“We get him back tonight, you can ask him then. Leave the kid be now yeah?” Ryan doesn’t hide his feelings.

Michael doesn’t say anything else he claps along with the crowd when Oliver walks by them on his way to warm down but as everyone sits to wait until the medal ceremony he walks out into the aisle.

“I’m gonna go talk to him.” Michael ignores Ryan’s request, “Wait for me I’ll bring him out.”

“Don’t Mike.” Ryan manages to grab hold of Michael’s shirt before he walks away, “Don’t go in there and-“

“He doesn’t look happy.” Michael asks.

“This is his second final today. You wouldn’t look happy.” Ryan groans.

“Something’s wrong.” Michael argues.

“You’re gonna miss him getting his medal.” Ryan points out.

“I’ll watch it from the deck.” Michael says, “He’ll-“

“Mike.” Ryan’s voice is firm, “Don’t be that dad.”

“I’m not that dad.” Michael insists, “I don’t think… It doesn’t look right.”

“He’s good.” Ryan insists, “He’s tired. We’ll take him out for food and go back to the hotel and watch a movie. He’ll be out before Tal calls.”

“It’s fine.” Michael tries to convince him, “I just want to make sure he’s okay.”

“You can do that in the car.” Ryan grabs onto Michael’s arm.

“I’ll bring him out. I can’t stay here.” Michael shrugs Ryan’s grip off and gets up.

*

Michael watches the medal ceremony backed up against a wall and his heart squeezes when Oliver gets his gold. He sees Oliver scan the crowd searching puzzled. Michael sees the change in Oliver’s expression when he spots Ryan and seconds later Oliver finds him. When their eyes meet though Oliver looks away.

Michael finally gets to Oliver in the locker room. He’s alone close to the showers and Michael can tell none of the lockers close to his are occupied.

“Yeah.” Oliver sighs when he sees him, “I figured.”

Oliver’s hair is still wet but he’s changed into shorts and a Harvard t-shirt. He looks dejected.

“What happened out there?”

Oliver just shrugs. He takes his swim bag out of his locker and digs through it for socks.

“You’ve been beating that time.” Michael says. It’s the first thing he thinks of because it had been the first indication Oliver wasn’t doing okay.

Oliver keeps his focus on his bag, idly moving things around. He glances at the rest of the locker room and sees that everyone has stopped whatever they were doing to stare at him.

“I didn’t wanna get it.” Oliver says quietly.

“You did that on purpose?” Michael can’t help but be angry.

He’s still competitive. It’s hard to sit passively and watch Oliver race without being able to help or change things or tell him to move his hand when it hits the water. It’s hard to not be in control. When he watches Oliver swim he misses the pool. He wants Oliver to know what it feels like to win so badly. He wants Oliver’s sacrifices and his dedication to be rewarded. He doesn’t want Oliver to regret all the things he’s missed.

“No.” Oliver admits, “I knew I was ahead I couldn’t see no one near me. It’s whatever.”

“It’s not whatever Oliver.” Oliver’s attitude is making Michael angrier than he should be. “Small things make big differences!”

“What d’you want me to say?” Oliver shrugs again, “I won. It’s still your record.”

"Never hold back for me.” Michael wants to hit the locker beside him for emphasis, to snap Oliver out of his complacency he grabs Oliver’s arm instead. “If it was the other way around, I would have destroyed your time and not given a fuck about who you are."

Oliver flinches when Michael grabs him and drops his glance to the floor.

"Next time you go out there forget I’m your dad!”

“I can’t do that!” Oliver says angrily, “No one’s ever gonna just talk about me without talking about you too. I gotta beat everyone in the pool and then I gotta beat you an dad. Tired of it. I’m legit the only kid who wins and gets shit for not breaking world records.” Oliver tugs hard at the zipper on his swim bag. He tries to discreetly wipe his eyes on the sleeve of his t-shirt.

“Oliver.” Michael tries to explain. He realizes that Ryan had been right. “That’s not what I was-” Now that he’s stopped yelling Michael notices that the locker room is deathly quiet. It takes one look in Oliver’s eyes for him to realize he went to far.

“D’you listen to what you were yelling?” Oliver looks at him bewildered, “Cause none of it was ‘Good job Oliver I’m proud!’”

In all his years of swimming, Michael’s seen fathers and coaches yell at countless swimmers in the locker room. He remembers an angry Steven storming through to find Ryan and yelling so loud the entire locker room had heard. Ryan’s face after Steven had left hadn’t been much different than Oliver’s now.

“That’s not the point Oliver, I never said.”

“Yeah you and grandpa don’t care, it’s never good enough.” Oliver shoulders his bag, “This was gonna be fun yeah?”

“Yeah-“

“This isn’t fun.” Oliver’s voice is quiet “This sucks.”

“Oliver-“ Michael starts, “If you don’t like-“

“No.” Oliver snaps angrily, “I love this. This.” He points between the two of them, “That’s what sucks.”

“I wanted to make sure-“ Michael gets that he’s just become everything he used to hate about swimming. “Bud I’m sorry.”

“Where’s Dad?” Oliver asks staring hard at his shoes, “I wanna drive home with dad.”

“We drove here together… Ols I’m proud of you.” Michael reaches out to rub Oliver’s back.

“You can drive with Grandpa.” Oliver moves away from Michael, “Talk about how much I suck.”

“Oliver. I just hate seeing you not… You’re so much better than-” Michael flounders for the right thing to say.

“Stop!” Oliver yells, his voice echoes across the locker room “I don’t care what you have to say.”

Oliver slams his locker shut, narrowly avoiding Michael’s fingers. He walks away and leaves Michael to stand by himself.

*

Ryan waits for Oliver and Michael just outside the doors of the venue. Barriers separate the athletes from the fans and most of the press. There are way too many girls screaming Oliver’s name. Ryan doubts that any of them know Oliver’s never been on a date.

Oliver’s taking longer than he should and Ryan hopes Michael followed his advice that he somehow came to his senses somewhere between getting up from his seat and seeing Oliver.

Ryan can’t honestly remember this many girls ever showing up to yell his name or to yell Michael’s name. He looks back to make sure that this is real, that all these girls are screaming out for his seventeen year old who still can’t quite ever remember to close the garage door and who still sleeps with his security blanket hidden under his pillow.

The security guards’ radios come to life crackling out a message and a second later a wave of swimmers, Oliver included, come out of the doors.

The screams get louder and Oliver takes a step back before awkwardly waving. He spots Ryan a second later and smiles in relief.

“You coming to see me?” Ryan exclaims in mocked awe when Oliver walks up to him.

“Yeah, shut up.” Oliver says.

“Way to go Gator.” Ryan claps Oliver on the back and pulls him in close. He feels Oliver press his forehead against his shoulder and Oliver hangs onto him for a few seconds longer than he usually does.

When he pulls away Ryan keeps one hand on the back of his son’s neck turning him away from the crowd and anyone taking picture. Just like that Oliver is theirs again and no longer public propriety.

“Tired?”

“I’m so sore.” Oliver tells him.

“Ready for an ice bath?”

“No-o” Oliver whines, “Bed.”

“Let’s go. We’re parked here you don’t even have to take a shuttle.”

“Not yet. Wait.” Oliver ducks under Ryan’s hand and turns back around towards the crowd.

Oliver waves to the girls waiting and the screams get louder; he grins and waves again. The security guard standing near the barrier looks at Oliver pleadingly and Oliver turns back to Ryan.

“Alright come on rockstar.” Ryan tugs on Oliver’s arm. “Say bye.”

“They told me not to go over… Grandpa said if I did and I got trampled he wouldn’t rehab me.”

“Where’s your dad?” Ryan asks. When Oliver had come out Ryan had assumed Michael would be right behind him.

“Driving back with grandpa.” Oliver answers.

“You sure?” Ryan questions skeptically, “Cause we had plans to take you out.”

“Yeah.” Oliver hands his swim bag to Ryan.

“Really?” Ryan raises an eyebrow, “Too much of a super star to carry your own bag?”

“I’m tired.” Oliver complains, “You always carry my bag.”

Ryan takes the bag anyways. He puts an arm around Oliver’s shoulder and walks him away from the barriers where all the girls are still screaming for him. Ryan tries to remember where Mike had parked their car and for a second he forgets what colour it is.

“You looked tired out there.”

Ryan won’t say it to Oliver but Michael and him had had ridiculously huge fights about Bob training Oliver. Ryan still had his reservations about the arrangement. Watching Oliver struggle through a race he hadn’t ever really wanted to swim had been almost painful. Ryan had wanted to be on the pool deck running along with Oliver to tell him to keep going. Watching Oliver push through on his last turn has made him prouder than anything else.

“Not you too.” Oliver complains.

“Not me too what? Dude I’m so proud, you did everything I ever taught you.”

Oliver doesn’t answer but points to a SUV a few spots away, “There that one the silver.”

“We tried to get you gold but they didn’t have any.” Ryan unlocks the door from a distance.

“Shut up.”

“I’m just gonna call your dad.” Ryan holds out the car keys to Oliver, “Start the car.”

“Really?” Oliver rolls his eyes.

“You love starting the car.” Ryan assures him.

“Yeah when I couldn’t drive. Can I drive?”

“No. I’m calling your dad.” Ryan dials for Michael. He walks to the trunk, opens it and drops Oliver’s bag in. He grabs a juice box and a granola bar for Oliver.

Ryan hears Michael’s ringtone before Michael answers. He’s ten feet from the car walking towards them.

“Thought you were driving back with Bob?” Ryan hangs up.

“I changed my mind.” Michael lies, “We’re taking Ols out to eat.”

“Yeah.” Ryan says unsure, “It was the plan the whole time.”

“Ok then.” Michael opens the driver’s side door open and motions for Oliver to come out. “We do that. Get out Bud I’m driving.”

Michael holds the backseat door open for Oliver but Oliver walks around him and gets in on the other side of the car. He slams the door to make a point.

Ryan stares at Michael and shakes his head while he closes the trunk.

“You couldn’t fucking drop it.” Ryan whispers to him when he gets into the car. He hands the juice box and the granola bar over to Oliver before shaking his head at Michael again.

It’s a silent car ride to the hotel and even quieter ride up to their room. Oliver walks five feet ahead of them. Michael tries to avoid Ryan’s accusing side-glances by staring at the floor.

Oliver gets to the tenth floor before them but has to wait for a room key.

“What did you want to eat Ols?” Michael tentatively asks once he’s opened the door.

Oliver doesn’t answer. He drops his swim bag next to Ryan’s neatly lined up shoes and heads towards the balcony.

“Oliver.” Ryan calls out, “Where are you going?”

“Out.”

“We’re talking to you.” Ryan steps between Oliver and the patio door. “We went to this place yesterday and your dad thought you’d love it.”

“We felt bad we were there without you.” Michael says carefully, “They have bacon wrapped hot dogs.”

“We didn’t feel that bad.” Ryan adds. “We got to eat our own fries.”

“We’ll go there?” Michael asks, “Just we have a bit so-”

“Whatever.” Oliver shrugs.

He ducks under Ryan’s arm and walks out on the balcony.

“You.” Ryan points at Michael as soon as Oliver is out of the room, “Bedroom.”

It’s the last thing Michael feels like doing but he follows Ryan. Most of their things are already packed. There’s a bag on the bed filled with souvenirs for Talan and a print out of the stats the basketball camp had sent to them earlier that morning. Ryan had spent most of the time between races on the phone with Talan’s basketball coach relaying the improvements.

Ryan is angry. He paces their room with clenched fists and a set jaw.

“What the fuck did you say to him?” Ryan demands.

“It came out wrong.” Michael tries to explain himself, “I wanted to know if he-”

“I told you not to.” Ryan yells, “I said to leave him alone. You couldn’t though and now Ols is-“ Ryan doesn’t finish saying what Oliver is.

“I had to-”

“Are you in that pool racing against him?”

“No.”

“Then shut the fuck up. You want to race him now you get in the pool and watch how quick he beats your ass.”

“He’d beat you too.”

“I’m not the one trash talking. Jesus Michael.” Ryan groans, “You get that he’s you right?”

Michael shrugs.

“You spent fucking years. Years.” Ryan emphasizes, “Bitching to me ‘bout how Bowman never told you when you did good so I have fucking zero sympathies for you going out there and pulling the same shit on our kid.”

“I want him to do his best and-“

“Then be his fucking coach!” Ryan pleads, “You’re not though. You’re his dad so your job is to sit your ass in the stands and cheer him on. That’s it. If he goes before the signal you cheer him on, if he comes last or fourth or first you cheer him on. He’s got a whole fucking world of people who are gonna tell him he’s not doing good enough, that he’s not you an’ me. We gotta be the people who he knows love him even if he fucking gets side tracked and decides to play basketball instead of racing.”

“So your mom.” Michael tries to joke.

“He doesn’t have a mom. He has us.”

Michael doesn’t answer back. He sits on their bed and covers his face with his hands.

“He’s got enough Bowman in his life Mike.” Ryan’s voice is calm again and that makes it even worse.

“I just wanted to make sure he was okay.” Michael holds his hands out in front of him and looks up at Ryan trying to get him to understand.

“You screwed up and you hurt him.” Ryan says pointedly. He knocks Michael’s hands out of the way and crouches in front of him, “You know the only thing that kid’s ever tried to do is make you proud Mike.”

Michael nods, he brushes his hands back through his hair.

“Go say you’re sorry.”

“I did.” Michael answers, “I said I was sorry. I don’t know what to say. I just wanted to ask if he was okay. I was worried.”

“Between you and him something got loss and he’s Oliver so boom.” Ryan mimics an explosion with his hand. “He did what you woulda have done if he was you.”

“You go talk to him.” Michael tries, “Get him on my side.”

“I can’t, I gotta talk to Tal and he’s gonna call in five minutes.”

“I don’t know what to say. I didn’t want him to think I wasn’t proud.” Michael groans, “I’m so fucking proud like can you imagine doing what he-”

“No.” Ryan shakes his head, “I’d be like…”

“Exactly.”

“Tell him that.” Ryan encourages, “Say you were wrong and you’re proud he’s your kid. That you love him and you’re sorry.”

“So like a Full House episode.” Michael rolls his eyes.

“It’s what I wanted my dad to say to me.”

“Your dad was proud of you Ry.” Michael says because he remembers the way Steven had looked at Ryan after races, he remembers how much it had hurt to watch Ryan hand Oliver off to Steven the first time. “You saw it on his face every time.”

“I know.” Ryan bites his lip, “I just wish he’d said it more… Ols shouldn’t feel that way.”

“He doesn’t want to talk to me.”

“Lucky you’re the dad he has no choise.” Ryan gets up and claps Michael on the back, “Faster he talks to you, faster he gets to eat.”

Ryan’s phone rings.

“And that’s Baby.” Ryan answers his phone and points Michael out of the room.

Talan talks for twenty minutes. About breakfast, his sneakers and his bunkmate. He talks about an exhibition game he played in and how a scout from Maryland had asked him how old he was. He tells Ryan he broke his glasses and that he’s been wearing contacts and how he regrets not bringing a second pair but that he fixed them with duct tape.

Talan is worried because he’s flying to Atlanta alone to make the same connecting flight as them to Florida. He wants Ryan to promise that if his plane his late they won’t leave without him.

Ryan hangs up after promising Tal they’d meet him at the gate for their connecting flight back to Florida the next day and reassuring him they wouldn’t board if he wasn’t there.  
He walks out of the bedroom to find Oliver still on the balcony and Michael sitting on the couch.

“Dude.” Ryan groans, “Go talk to him.”

“He doesn’t want to talk to me.” Michael shrugs, “Just let him deal.”

“I’m hungry.” Ryan points out, “So one of you has to give. You’re the adult.”

“He won’t talk to me.” Michael insists. “Just let him cool off.”

“Well it’s cold out there he will.” Ryan tosses his phone at Michael, “Call Tal back and make sure he knows not to go back out of security once he lands tomorrow.”

*

Oliver sits an awful white plastic chair. He balances on the two back legs with his feet propped against the railing. His hood is up and his hands are balled inside the sleeves of his hoodie.

“Can I sit here?” Ryan asks him.

“Free world.”

“You’re not mad at me.” Ryan reminds him.

Ryan settles on the chair next to Oliver’s and puts his feet up against the balcony railing too. He reaches out to tip Oliver’s chair forward so he’s resting on all four legs.

“I wasn’t gonna fall.” Oliver tells him.

They sit in silence. Ryan pretends not to notice when Oliver keeps biting his nails. Finally he can no longer take the quiet.

“Your dad loves you yeah?”

Oliver shrugs.

“No.” Ryan insists, “Your dad loves you. It’s why he’s-”

“Mad at me.” Oliver fills in.

“He’s not mad.”

“Disappointed?”

“Don’t Gator. Your dad loves you. He was worried.”

“He yelled.”

“Yeah he does that.” Ryan agrees, “Because he cares a lot.”

Oliver scoffs.

Ryan is more familiar with the other side of this speech. He’s been in Oliver’s place while his mom tried to mend the differences between him and his dad. Ryan tries to remember the important parts of this speech; the words and sentences his mom had used to undo how small his father had made him feel.

“You can swim better than you did today.”

“I know.” Oliver answers, “I was tired.”

“I get that… Dude I do but you gotta push yourself.” Ryan knows he’s channeling more of his father’s speeches, “You can’t just cruise here you think you’re that good but those other guys want it just as much as you… You don’t want to be the one who doesn’t make the podium because you thought you were safe. If you give it everything you have all the time then you don’t feel like this afterwards.”

Oliver doesn’t answer.

“Don’t beat yourself up too bad.” Ryan gets up and messes Oliver’s hair, “You did good.”

“Yeah?”

“You know you did good Ols.” Ryan sighs, “Be proud.”

“I coulda done better.” Oliver shrugs, “That last race I-”

“Won.” Ryan finishes for him, “You don’t got to beat us to make us proud. Like…” Ryan stops to think, “What I did is done and you’re more important.”

Oliver nods.

“Your dad didn’t mean-” Ryan can’t believe he’s defending Michael.

“Some kids were like…” Oliver wipes his eyes with his sleeve, “Do you know what I would give for Michael Phelps to tell me what I did wrong? Do you know how lucky you are? Like it’s bad enough everyone’s older than me and now my dad comes back to yell at me?” Oliver bites his lip and shakes his head.

“I know what that feels like Gator, Don’t cry.” Ryan squeezes Oliver’s arm, “Your dad’s proud.”

Oliver stretches to rest his head against Ryan’s shoulder and Ryan strokes his hair and his shoulder. Oliver feels heavy against him and Ryan knows he’s exhausted so he just lets him rest happy that even months before he leaves for college Oliver still needs him.

“I don’t want to cry.” Oliver says after being quiet for so long that Ryan was sure he’d fallen asleep.

“It’s our secret.” Ryan promises.

There’s nothing to watch from the balcony but the plain façade of the next building. Ryan keeps running his hand through Oliver’s hair like he used to do after Oliver had nightmares and waits for Oliver to talk or fall asleep or agree to come back inside.

“I could have done better.” Oliver speaks.

“Not for us.” Ryan insists. “Come inside.”

“In a bit.” Oliver He lifts his head from Ryan’s shoulder.

Oliver leans back on his chair to balance on the two back legs again. He fixes his hair. He brushes it back forward and up off his forehead. The mannerism is so Michael it makes Ryan smile.

“Bacon wrapped hot dogs Oliver.” Ryan reminds him, he tips Oliver’s chair forward when he stands. “I know you’re hungry. Five minutes?”

Oliver nods and tips his chair back as soon as Ryan lets go.

*

When Ryan walks back inside Michael looks at him expectantly.

“You’re up Mike.” Ryan sits down on the couch, “Did you talk to Talan?”

“He had no idea.” Michael explains, “Even though I told him to just ask… so I called the airline and they’re going to take him from his first flight to the gate for the second. He’s going to be there an hour before us.”

“Good. Go.” Ryan encourages, “Seriously. He’s gotta hear it from you Mike.”

*

Oliver cranes his neck to look at the door when he hears it opening.

“Hey.” He says shortly once he sees Michael.

“Come inside Ols.” Michael keeps the door open, “It’s gonna rain.”

“I like the air.” Oliver says stubbornly, “No thanks.”

“There’s air inside.” Michael tries to joke. He drums his hands against the doorframe when Oliver just answers with a glare and more silence.

Michael knocks Oliver’s legs down and stands in front of him.

“I didn’t handle it well clearly.” Michael starts.

Oliver laughs at that one. He props his feet up on the edge of his chair before he wraps his arms around his legs.

“I’m really proud to be your dad.” Michael says carefully, he waits until Oliver’s looking at him before he continues, “I’m sorry.”

“You made me feel like this big.” Oliver holds his thumb and forefinger an inch apart. “Other people were telling me how I was a brat for not listening to Michael Phelps.”

“You shouldn’t listen to him when he’s being an asshole.”

Oliver laughs again. He stretches out his legs and rests his feet back up next to Michael.

“I shouldn’t have yelled.” Michael tells him, “I shouldn’t have been there and I shouldn’t have grabbed your arm.”

“I got mad too.” Oliver offers, “When you said I didn’t really care I got pissed.”

“It literally kills me to watch you struggle.” Michael admits, “That’s what’s hard. Not watching you get my records.”

“You don’t care?”

“No I care.” Michael decides to be honest, “But when it’s you breaking them I’m just happy. Like I’m proud of you and proud of your dad for helping you and-”

Oliver nods and tips his chair back until he’s leaning against the glass door.

“You’re gonna fall.” Michael warns.

“Are the hot dogs really that great?” Oliver asks because he’s had enough speeches and apologies for one day, “Cause like it’s Friday and we could get pizza.”

“Pizza day’s tomorrow with Tal.” Michael explains, “We pushed it. We had a meeting.”

“Did Baby call already?”

“Yeah, you can still call him back.”

“I’ll send him a picture of the hot dog.” Oliver schemes, “Maybe they can put steak on top… Like three animals in one meal.” He laughs at his own idea.

Michael hasn’t said everything he wanted to but he knows that Oliver gets it.

Michael sits down in the spare chair and Oliver goes silent again but it’s not out of spite. Michael watches Oliver’s eyes close and lets him doze off. The sky gets greyer but not black like it does before a storm in Florida. The wind picks up and Oliver’s hair blows in his face, Michael reaches out to brush it back.

“I’m going to the Olympics.” Oliver says jolting awake. It’s the first time he’s said it out loud.

“You are.” Michael agrees and it’s the first time it sets in for him too.

“That’s crazy.” Oliver shakes his head and rubs a hand over his face, “Like wow.”

“You did it.” Michael says simply.

Oliver shrugs again but he smiles big.

“Am I gonna be famous?”

It’s Michael’s turn to laugh because if Oliver had bothered to pay attention to anything other than his races he would have noticed he already was.

“Girls tried to sneak into the hotel yesterday to see you.” Michael admits even though Ryan and him had agreed to not share that piece of information with him, “Maybe you already are.”

“Really?” Oliver’s suddenly more interested, “That’s sick.”

Thunder rumbles in the distance and Michael figures they have five minutes before it starts to rain but Oliver still doesn’t seem to be interested in going back inside.

“D’you really want to do this Ols?” Michael asks finally. It’s the question that had driven him to go to the locker room in the first place.

“Yeah.” Oliver nods.

“If tomorrow you wake up and you don’t want to swim. It’s okay. You don’t have to do it to make me proud.” It kills Michael to say it but he knows it’s the truth and he knows it’s what Oliver needs to hear.

“No, I want to win.” Oliver insists, “I want a hot dog.”

“Your dad’s probably sleeping.” Michael realizes they’ve been out here for way longer than he’d planned. He’d thought Oliver would have refused to talk.

“I want them to put a burger on it too.” Oliver gets up and stretches. His fingertips almost touch the balcony of the floor above them. “For Tal.”

*

Talan is usually the reason why they’re late. He’s usually the last one out of the bed and the last one to pack and the slowest walker. Even without him in Missouri though Ryan, Michael and Oliver are still late getting to the airport. They have less than an hour and a half to check out, get to the airport and pass security. They delegate tasks and Michael checks them out while Ryan gets the luggage in the rental car.

Michael tries to smile politely through the hotel manager’s speech about Oliver, swimming, Missouri and how happy the entire hotel family is that they chose to stay with them. He’s putting his wallet back in his pocket when Oliver holds up an ice bucket liner bag full of gold medals to his face.

“Are these carry on or like do I stash ‘em in my luggage?” Oliver shakes the bag, “I don’t wanna be the dude who’s going through security and they’re like ‘What are those?’ and I gotta be like ‘medals all gold’. That’s embarrassing. Can you put them in-”

“What?” Michael looks up from the front desk of the hotel.

“My medals.” Oliver says insulted Michael hadn’t been listening, “Where do I put them?”

“Your backpack.” Michael tells him.

“Dad said my suitcase.”

“Ask your dad how many medals he’s lost.”

“He said you’re the one who’s lost a gold medal.”

“It’s not lost.” Michael shakes his head, “Your dad knows exactly where that medal is.”

“He lost your medal?”

“Where do you want to put your medals Oliver?” Michael decides to turn the question around.

“I don’t know.” Oliver says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “It’s why I’m asking you.”

“Put them in your backpack.” Michael repeats.

“I don’t want them in there.” Oliver whines, “What if I gotta open my bag.”

“Put them in my bag.” Michael concedes. He waves to the leather bag by his feet.

Oliver grins like his master plan’s just been executed to perfection. He unzips Michael’s carry on and shoves his medals in. He pulls out a Ziploc bag of goldfish crackers.

“Awesome snacks.”

“Those have probably been in there since Tal was three.” Michael laughs, “But try them out.”

Ryan is impatiently drumming his fingers against the steering wheel when they get into the car.

“Where d’you put your medals Ols?” Ryan asks as he pulls away from the hotel.

“Dad has them.”

“Bad choice.” Ryan shakes his head, “He’ll probably lose one.”

Ryan takes his eyes off the road for a second to wink at Michael; he drops one of his hands on Michael’s leg and rubs his knee.

They’d booked two flights, one to throw off any reporters who’d planned on waiting for them and the other to actually go home. Michael thanks the lord that Missouri isn’t a paparazzi hot spot and they manage to walk from the car rental drop off to check in without anyone stopping them.

Their flight is delayed for an hour on the runway and while Oliver sleeps with his head against the window and his legs over Ryan’s lap, Michael and Ryan worry about Talan waiting for them an extra hour.

Oliver is still half asleep when they de board in Atlanta. They’re twenty gates away from their connection and on the wrong side of the terminal. Oliver won’t carry his own backpack and he drags his feet until Ryan threatens to push him in a wheelchair.

Talan sees them before they see him. He drags his backpack behind him and runs at them full speed. He crashes into Ryan first and hugs him tight.

“Hey we missed you.” Ryan kisses his cheek, “You have a good time?”

“Yeah!” Talan smiles so hard his eyes crinkle, he pulls away from Ryan to hug Michael, “It was awesome. Like the coach from Michigan was there and he said that in four years he’d come see me play when I’m choosing-”

“Michigan?” Michael smirks at Ryan, “Good choice Baby. Your dad showed me your stats you did amazing.”

“Not like I made the Olympics.” Talan rolls his eyes, “Nice job Ols.”

“D’you watch me?”

“Sometimes.” Talan admits, “But I yelled at the tv super loud. Grandpa looked pissed.”

“How long have you been here?” Oliver picks up Talan’s backpack and hangs onto it for him.

“Super long, like two hours.” Talan throws his head back exasperated, “It’s so boring. They won’t let me leave the gate. You made me a prisoner.” Talan accuses Michael.

“Then next time when I tell you how to get from one gate to the other listen.” Michael hands Talan Oliver’s bag.

“She made me sit there.” Talan points to the flight attendant standing behind the gate, “I’m kinda scared of her. I had to go on the plane first with the babies. Can we go get food?” He complains.

“Here.” Oliver throws the bag of goldfishes at him, “Dad had snacks.”

“These look old.” Talan inspects the bag before handing it back to Oliver, “You eat them.”

They walk back to the gate together. Talan holds up his hands when the flight attendant gives him a dirty look.

“I didn’t run away. My dads are here.” He defends himself, “Your job’s done. You’ll miss me though.”

Oliver laughs and shakes his head; he sits down next to Tal’s empty chair and waits for him.

“Dork.” He shakes his head when Talan sits, “How many gates d’you have to walk?”

“Five. They let me ride in one of the carts.”

“For five gates?”

“Dads didn’t want me to get lost.” Talan reaches for Oliver’s bag and unzips the top, “Do you have snacks?”

“No.”

“D’you miss me?”

Oliver wouldn’t usually admit to missing Talan but he feels bad. He feels guilty that Talan’s had to spend two weeks away from home because of him, he feels bad that Tal’s spent so many weekends living with their uncle. He feels bad that Tal’s giving up a huge chunk of his summer to go to Rotterdam.

“I asked you a question.” Talan snaps his fingers in front of Oliver’s face.

“Yeah.” Oliver nods, “Dads didn’t leave me alone.”

“I started The Hobbit.” Talan tells him proudly, “Like I read three chapters.”

“Yeah?” Oliver had lent Talan his copy before he’d left, “You like it?”

“Yeah. It’s cool.” Talan pulls the tattered book from his backpack and gives it to Oliver, “Here.”

“D’you get ketchup on it?”

“I read it when we ate… I didn’t really know anyone so like… I had Frodo.”

“Bilbo.”

“Yeah him. Keep reading to me?” Talan asks, “I don’t have my glasses.”

“That’s dumb you need them to see.” Oliver inspects his favourite book for more damages,

“I put contacts in an I lost one.” Talan explains, “Keepin’ one in was giving me a headache so I took them out.”

“You’re not…” Oliver sighs but he cracks the book open, “Chapter four?”

“Chapter four.”

“Over hill and under hill.” Oliver reads, he props the book up between both of them, “There were many paths that led up into those mountains, and many passes over them. But most of the paths were cheats and deceptions and led nowhere or to bad ends; and most of the passes were infested by evil things and dreadful dangers.”

“You think.” Talan yawns and leans back against his seat, “They’d have a better way of getting there. Like they have elves and shit and magic but no planes? Weak.”

“Are you gonna listen or you’re gonna complain?”

“I’m listening. Go.” Talan promises, “D’you think dad has snacks.”

“He doesn’t.” Oliver answers, he thumbs through the pages of his book.

“I bet those crackers aren’t that old. Like Dad cleans his bag right? Dad does it for him?” Tal opens the bag of goldfish crackers, takes one and smells it. He tentatively puts one in his mouth and chews carefully before making a face. “They’re old. Gross. Ugh.”

“You’re a dweeb.” Oliver laughs, “Who the fuck would eat those crackers.”

“I’m hungry.” Talan groans, “I had to get up way early cause dads made me get to the airport like two hours before I had to be there and-” He flails back in his seat.

“Let’s go get food.” Oliver shoves the book in his backpack, “Come on.”

“No. I want to find out what happens to Bilbo. Read.”

“Fine.” Oliver picks the book back up.

“From the start.” Talan requests, “I think I skipped a lot of parts.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Talan nods, he eats another cracker and grimaces again.

“Baby stop eating those.” Ryan grabs the bag from Talan’s hand and throws it in a trash can, “Here – Peanut butter granola.”

“You were holding out snacks.” Talan shakes his head, “Why?”

“Forgot I had them. What are you guys doing?”

“He’s too lazy to read his own book.” Oliver flips through the first front pages until he gets to the first chapter.

“What? You can’t see?” Ryan asks worriedly, “It’s bright enough you should-”

“He’s fine.” Oliver answers for Talan, “He can see he just doesn’t want to read, don’t make it a thing.”

“Owiver eeds ‘ter.” Talan says with his mouth full.

“If you want to get real food we have half an hour before we board. If not we’re getting pizza on our way home.” Ryan offers.

When Ryan doesn’t get any takers he gathers up Talan’s boarding pass and walks back to sit with Michael a few rows away.

Oliver sees someone slow down to look at him and he turns his head to the side and pulls his hat lower on his face.

“In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit-” Oliver starts to read.

“Can his name be Talan?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Excerpts from The Hobbit are clearly taken from The Hobbit which was surprisingly not written by me but by Tolkien. 
> 
> Clearly this isn't real.


	3. Chapter 3

**North Baltimore Athletics Club  
Six months to Rotterdam**

“Oliver.” Michael sighs aggravated, “You can’t sit on pool lanes.” 

Oliver is done morning practice. He’s sitting in the middle of the pool rubbing water off his face. He’s wearing a bright orange swim cap Michael assumes use to belong to Ryan, he’s sure that if he was on the other side of the pool he’d see bright white lettering spell out Lochte. Oliver wears it because it annoys Bob and Oliver wears it because it annoys him when Bob just calls him Phelps. 

“Grandpa lets me.” Oliver answers smartly. 

“He doesn’t let anyone sit on pool lanes.” Michael argues back, “It’s a rule, get off. Finish whatever you were doing. Take it seriously Oliver.” 

“I am done.” Oliver calls back.

“Then get out of the pool. Warm down. You know what to do.” Michael implores 

He’d dropped Oliver off at the pool at 5am, scared that his Florida raised teenager wouldn’t have been able to drive in the early morning snowstorm. Dropping Oliver off meant Michael had to pick him up and now he wishes he’d let Oliver drive himself. 

“Oliver, you have to eat before afternoon practice, you have to do homework.” Michael yells across the pool, “we don’t have time to play games.” 

“I am doing what I’m suppose to do.” Oliver tugs at his swim cap, “I’ll get out for pancakes.”

Oliver is being pure Ryan but Michael knows Oliver wouldn’t be pulling this stunt if Ryan were around. Somehow, around the pool, Ryan’s become the parent who lays down the law. Michael’s sure 100% of Ryan’s coaching lines were stolen directly from Steven. Michael knows that Oliver’s spent enough time in the Daytona Speed shower room to give lip to Ryan during swimming practice. 

“If you keep wasting time you’re gonna have to eat whatever’s in the back of the car so-” 

“Stop bothering my swimmers Phelps.” Bob says gruffly walking out of his office.

“He’s sitting on a lane divider.” Michael defends himself, “He’s the only one in the pool, he’s my kid.” 

“Oliver.” Bob calls out, “Wrap it up. Good job.”

Oliver smiles smugly at Michael and doesn’t move from his spot. 

“You got soft.” Michael shakes his head at Bob, “That woulda gotten me…” 

“He doesn’t complain about his sets.” Bob points out, “He doesn’t kick things around when I ask him to bring them, he listens the first time, I don’t have to talk him into getting into the pool.” 

“You know what I had to do before you said good job to me?” 

“Maybe.” Bob turns around to look at him, “If you and Lochte hadn’t raised him with all that hippy love crap I wouldn’t have to”

“He’s sitting on pool lanes.” Michael points out.

“If it bothers you that much swim out and go get him.” Bob says heading back to his office, “Next group is out in ten. You might want to be out of here.” 

All Michael can hear once Bob closes his door is the sound of Oliver laughing. 

“Let’s go punk.” Michael motions Oliver over, “You have twenty more minutes before it’s too late for pancakes.” 

“Come get me.” Oliver taunts, “We can race.” 

Michael groans, Oliver loves to race because Oliver loves to win and while Michael’s been winning for years he’s sure that with Oliver at the peak of his training he doesn’t stand a chance. 

“I’m not getting into the pool.” Michael says firmly, “Come out.” 

“Afraid I’m gonna win.” Oliver drops down from the pool lane and swims closer to the edge. 

“You know what Oliver.” Michael points to the banner hanging off the wall stating medal counts and world records, “When your name is on there more times than mine we can talk.” 

As Michael walks around the pool to go meet his son, he sees for certain that Oliver is wearing one of Ryan’s old University of Florida swim caps. Michael wonders for a second if Ryan paid someone to have the cap re-issued for Oliver. Michael wouldn’t put it pass Ryan to fund Oliver’s annoy Bob campaign. 

“Grandpa says I’m better.” Oliver answers while threading water a few feet from the edge of the pool.   
“Fifteen minutes for pancakes.” Michael warns, “That means ten after you shower and get dressed.” 

“I got a second off my time.” Oliver says not moving closer to the edge, “Like it’s better than before surgery.” 

“That’s great Ols.” Michael pretends he doesn’t already know this. That he doesn’t have Oliver’s time emailed to him by every person who works with Oliver. 

“I’m gonna call dad to tell him.” Oliver swims closer to the edge and his hand hits the water awkwardly. 

“Watch out Bud.” Michael frowns, “Your shoulder bugging you?” 

“Kinda.” Oliver answers reluctantly, “Fly hurt today.” 

“Out.” Michael isn’t kidding, “Out of the pool. Right now.” 

“It’s not bad.” Oliver defends himself, “I just-”

“No out. Right now Oliver.” 

“I-” 

“Oliver Charles.” 

“Fine.” Oliver grabs hold of the edge of the pool with his good hand, “No X-rays.” he conditions. 

“That’s not for you to-” Michael takes a breath, “You can’t stay in here all day. You probably just strained it but if it hurts we gotta get it checked out or it’s just going to- Be careful getting out.”

“They’re not doing that thing with the needle and the dye.” Oliver hoists himself up and walks over to the bleachers for his towel. 

“Shower. You got five minutes.” Michael points in the general direction of the locker room. “Then you’re getting it checked out.” 

“No.” Oliver disagrees, “Then I get pancakes.” 

Michael shakes his head as he watches his too lanky kid stride across the pool deck. Oliver hasn’t grown into any of his limbs and he’s too skinny no matter how much they feed him or how much muscle mass he puts on. 

Ryan and Talan aren’t in Baltimore because they can’t pull Talan out of school mid semester. Oliver’s been sending assignments back to Florida and studying at home in the evening or in the locker room between practices. Michael can’t think of how to call Ryan and break the news that Oliver might be injured again because Ryan hadn’t approved of this plan to begin with. Ryan had only gone along with it because it’s what Oliver had wanted. Oliver had wanted to train with Bob and that meant being in Baltimore. 

Oliver had hurt his shoulder in one of his first high school football games; the sound from the tackle had carried through to the stands. One of the assistant coaches had run to the stands to tell both Michael and Ryan to follow him. 

Once his brace had come off, Oliver had stopped playing football and had started swimming more seriously. Six months later, Oliver had re-injured it at a junior training camp in Colorado. 

The phone call had come around dinner time, Oliver was hurt and would be flying back home the next day. Michael had spent hours on the phone getting passed from office to office forced to listen to answering message after answering message until a scared sounding intern had given him the home phone number of the training camp doctor. 

Oliver had shown up at the airport the next day dazed out on pain pills and exhausted. Terrified he’d fucked up every chance he had to make the next Olympic team. 

They hadn’t talked about swimming for days, hadn’t taken him to the pool. They’d sent him back to school with his shoulder in a brace and on a more manageable dose of painkillers. Without talking about it to him, they’d started calling orthopedist surgeons. 

Michael and Ryan had met Caleb and Bruce on the only gay family cruise they’d ever taken. Right before Oliver had started kindergarten, an effort to prove to him that there were more families just like them even though he didn’t see a lot of them around Florida. 

Caleb had come to Michael’s rescue at breakfast one morning when Talan had decided to make a break for it while Michael’s hands were busy holding onto a food filled tray. 

Bruce and Caleb had two boys of their own, older than Oliver and Talan, and after the cruised they’d remained good friends. Through the years they’d become more like family. 

Bruce was a trauma surgeon in Miami and through him and his connections Ryan and Michael had been able to get consultations with the top orthopedist surgeon’s in the country. 

Oliver hadn’t wanted surgery but they’d made it clear that it was his only option. Not only to make the national team but to be able to lead a normal life. There was no other way around this injury other than surgery. 

Oliver had dragged his feet and acted like a brat through every appointment they’d set up. They had to constantly remind each other that he was just fifteen and scared.

After his surgery, they’d agreed that he needed a new coach. Ryan didn’t feel like he could bring Oliver to where he needed to be. He had his fashion line and other commitments to keep. While he’d given Oliver a solid base and honed down his strokes he couldn’t take him to the next level. 

The idea of Bob had come from left field. Michael had brought him up as an option before even consulting him. Bob was retired and hadn’t coached anyone in years but Michael knew that if they had to trust someone with Oliver they could trust a person who’d known him since he was a four-pound newborn. 

It had been the biggest fight Ryan and him had had in years. 

They had both said things the regretted. Ryan had vouched for Devon as a coach and Michael had shot it down putting Devon’s lack of any actual Olympic experience up as evidence. Ryan had brought up the many ways Bob had messed Michael up and how it had taken years for it to go away. Was Michael really willing to sacrifice Oliver’s well being for gold medals?

The fight had gone on well into the night, even with both boys upstairs. It had lasted until Oliver had walked into the kitchen. 

“Stop.” He’d pleaded, “You’re scaring Tal.” 

“Oliver this isn’t any of your business go back to-” 

“It is my business actually.” Oliver had cut him off, “I wanna train with Grandpa.” 

Ryan had reluctantly agreed and Michael and Oliver had spent a large portion of the months leading up to team trials living in Baltimore. 

Getting Oliver ready for Rotterdam had taught them the other side of the sacrifices needed to get to the Olympics. 

While Oliver showers and changes Michael makes his way to Bob’s old office. More sparsely furnished than it had been when he was still training. 

“He says his shoulder hurts.” Michael says not bothering to knock, “I’m going to go get it checked out he might be late for-” 

“He won’t be late for practice.” Bob doesn’t look up from his stats sheets, “Extra sets if he’s late.” 

“I’m excusing him.” Michael argues, “As his parent. His shoulder hurts so he’s-” 

“Practice starts at 2, he needs to be out here stretching five minutes before.” 

“Maybe you didn’t hear.” Michael says, “But his shoulder hurts. We have to get it checked out and it might-” 

“Of course he hurts.” Bob finally puts down the papers, “He just swam harder than- Anyone will tell you all he needs is ice and-” 

“He’s your grandson.” Michael states, “You’d think you’d care more-” 

“You hired me as a coach. He has afternoon practice. Sick or not-” 

“He’s injured.”

“No.” Bob shakes his head, “Your seventeen year old told you his shoulder hurt. I’m sure if you ask him he’ll tell you his legs probably hurt too.” 

“I’m still taking him.”

“I still expect him here at two. Ask him what his extra sets are, he’ll tell you.” 

Michael really doesn’t want Ryan to have been right. Really doesn’t want to have his choices as a parent be put in question. He knows what Ryan would do. He knows Ryan would have taken Oliver out of the pool and into the car and gone straight to get his shoulder looked at. He hates that he’s thinking twice about calling Ryan.

“Pancakes?” 

Oliver is dressed in sweats and carrying his swim bag over his bad shoulder. His hair is shoved under a grey beanie. He’s wearing running shoes because even after two weeks in Baltimore they still haven’t had time to go buy him winter boots. 

“We’ll get them on the way to your physio.” Michael says absentmindedly, “How’s your shoulder?” 

“Okay.” Oliver shrugs, “Just hurts… like everything hurts. My legs like… Maybe I’m growing again.” 

“I said you might be late for afternoon practice we’d-”

“No.” Oliver stops walking, “No way.” 

“Ols. Come on.”

“No. If you take me away from here you gotta promise I’ll be back in time.” 

“I can’t, we might have to wait at the office if they can’t see you right away.”

“I’m not leaving.” Oliver says defiantly, “I have food in my locker.” 

“I’ll call dad.” Michael hates threatening Oliver with Ryan. 

“Don’t.” Oliver’s eyes go wide, “He’s gonna… No.” 

“If your shoulder hurts, we have to go get it checked out. Dr. Andrews said that if you were going to start training this hard we had to-”

“It doesn’t hurt!”

“You just said.” Michael says aggravated. 

“I just wanted you to…” Oliver sighs, “I dunno feel bad, gimme juice.” 

“You wanted juice?” 

“Yeah.” Oliver nods, “It’s okay.” 

Michael doesn’t know who to believe and he doesn’t want to call Ryan. He hates that his instincts as a parent clash with his instinct as a competitor. Part of him knows Oliver might not be ready to train this hard but the other part knows how much Oliver’s given up for this and how much it means to him. The swimmer in him knows how much missing one practice can mean. 

“I’m okay.” Oliver says again, “Don’t make me miss.” 

 

**Rotterdam, Day 8**

 

“What’s that bruise Oliver?” 

Oliver lifts his head up, taking his face from between his knees and looking around. He blinks at Bob a few times before answering. 

“Fell out of bed.” Oliver groans. He holds his arm up and twists his head around to look at his side, “Great.” 

“Do I need to put railings up?” Bob asks. 

“No.” Oliver rolls his eyes. He puts his head back down and tries to maybe get one more minute of sleep. 

“Planning on getting in the pool anytime soon?” 

“I gotta choice?” He asks his eyes still closed

Bob just raises an eyebrow. 

“I got two finals.” Oliver tries to plead, “Plus semis. I’m tired.”

Oliver’s more than tired, he’s exhausted, worn out and homesick. He’s been trying to dig deep and find any last reserves of energy to get him through his before last day of races. So far he’s been coming up empty. 

“Five minutes.” Bob says walking away, “At least pretend you’re stretching.” 

*

“Good evening and welcome again to day eight of these games here in Rotterdam. Oliver Phelps-Lochte attempting to tie his father’s old record. With seven gold medals already under his belt can he manage to secure an eight one tonight.” 

“We watched him struggle to win gold this afternoon not having as easy of a time with it as he’s had so far in these games. Loosing a great deal of headway to Bright of Australia at the very start Oliver really had to fight for the remainder of this race.” 

“This might be way Oliver will not be anchoring the relay tonight. Team USA telling us he will be the first swimmer out. A spot usually reserved for the second fastest swimmer.” 

“Swimmers are meant to be walking on deck at any moment. If we can pan our cameras to the stands you will once again be able to see the entire Phelps-Lochte family. Dads Ryan and Michael watching every record they’ve held for years get disseminated by their oldest child as the week goes on.” 

“We will be re-airing the interview they did with our very own Ryan Seacrest tonight right after this race.” 

“Swimmers walking out on the deck now, huge cheer for team USA as always, a great part of the stands filled with fans, many of them young girls who’ve seemingly turned this event into a boy band concert.”

“Indeed Oliver attracting many young fans to the sport, definitely one of the most popular athletes on team USA. Do you think the pressure had started to get to him-”  
“I’m sorry to interrupt but if you’re seeing what I’m seeing… Oliver Phelps-Lochte is not getting up on the block, team USA apparently making a last minute switch in their lineup, we are currently told he will anchor this relay.” 

“Now I’m not sure that’s a good decision, it doesn’t seem to make sense that with the swimmers in this relay and with this being Oliver’s third race of the day, his second final…” 

“I’m sure everyone’s picked up that his arm was in a sling walking the deck between his first race and semi finals this afternoon… That shoulder no doubt giving him trouble.” 

“With seven golds already under his belt are we watching him start to unravel? There’s been talk of him dropping out of those last few races but with that injury flaring up could the end some sooner for Phelps-Lochte.” 

“USA Swimming refusing to give out a statement, Oliver has yet to talk to any press today but he is scheduled to sit for a press conference with the rest of the relay team after this final race of the day.” 

“If we pan our cameras once again to the stands you can see Dads Michael and Ryan clearly either confused by this change or angered by it. Our lip readers will be analyzing the footage and we will get back to you right after these commercials. A possible injured Oliver Phelps-Lochte swimming for his eight gold medal when we return here on your Olympic network. Thank you for watching.”

*

“Um no.” Ryan exclaims hitting Michael’s arm, “No.” 

“What?” Michael looks away from Talan, “What’s wrong.”

“He’s not getting up on the block. They switched him.” 

“To what?” 

“How am I suppose to know what’s going on? I’m here. He can’t anchor this Mike he’s-” 

“Relax.” Michael tries.

“No.” Ryan argues, “D’you get how much weight he’s gonna have to pull to make up the time? I looked. They’re putting it on him.”

“Ry.”

“He’s hurt.” Ryan says, “And no one’s called us about it. No one’s given us an update. We’re his parents and the fucking NBC announcers know more about-” 

“Oliver’s hurt.” Talan asks worried, “You said it was just to help him out. It’s out of-” 

“Baby.” Ryan reaches next to him and puts a hand over Tal’s mouth, “For a second don’t talk. Go see Brady.” 

“They’re not even here.” Talan complains, pushing Ryan’s hand away, “They’re not gonna come until-” 

“Then go to the bathroom before the race just- I have to talk to your dad and-” 

“Just tell me you don’t want me here.” Talan groans, “Whatever.” 

Talan steps over their row of seats and walks away before Michael can tell him to stay or give him a time frame in which to return. 

“Really Ry?” Michael turns his head to watch Talan walk out of his sight into the crowd. 

“He’s with Bowman.” Ryan puts his program in front of his face, “Because you said if something was wrong he’d tell you the truth. I don’t know what the fuck is going on down there. I don’t like it.”

“If he’s out there he’s fine.” Michael promises, “He wouldn’t let him swim if he wasn’t.”

“Yeah?” Ryan challenges, “Every time you were up on that block you were fine?” 

“Every time you were up on that block you were fine?” Michael repeats. 

“Yeah.” Ryan says without thinking about it, “If it wasn’t fun I didn’t do it.” He points to Oliver biting his nails by the block, “He doesn’t look like he’s having fun.” 

* 

Oliver wins his eighth gold medal and barely musters up the energy to smile and wave at the crowd. His shoulder, which had started hurting after his first race, is now painful to move and he lets a volunteer guide him to the warm down pool without even looking up at the cameras. 

He knows he’s suppose to wait for someone to take his blood to test it but after eight days of dealing with it he can’t stomach the thought of another needle. He chooses instead to start swimming, even though he knows better. 

Oliver swims with his head down at an awkward angle to make up for the pain in his shoulder. He breathes to the wrong side and fights through it until he hears his name being called out. 

“Phelps!” Bob yells again when Oliver looks up. 

Oliver stops and hangs onto the edge of the pool. He pulls his goggles up but doesn’t answer. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Bob asks and Oliver can see someone waiting behind him with the blood test kit. “You know-“ 

“Not gonna.” Oliver puts both his hands back in the water, “I don’t want to.” 

“It’s not a choice Phelps.” 

“Lochte.” Oliver adds under his breath.

“Don’t get smart. Give her your hand.” 

“No.” Oliver’s answer is short, “I’m not going to do that.” 

“Phelps.” Bob insists, “I haven’t been dragged on deck in fifteen years and I’m sure it’s why you think you can get away with that half stroke you’re doing. What’s wrong with your shoulder.” 

“I’m not getting a needle.” Oliver repeats, “I can’t.” 

“Get out.” Bob shakes his head and points to the end of the lane, “You’re done. You can bike.” 

“I’m not getting out if she’s there.” Oliver looks at the trainer. 

“Oliver.” Bob says and Oliver knows he’s probably pushed too far, “You don’t give her blood you’re done swimming.” 

“I want my dads.” Oliver answers chewing his lip, “I don’t wanna do this. My shoulder’s hurt.” 

Bob crouches down by the pool, the toes of his sneakers touching Oliver’s arms, “You’re hurt?” 

Oliver nods. 

“Get out.” Bob points to the end of the lane again, “I’m not joking around Oliver.” 

Oliver only moves himself forward with his good arm and lifts himself out of the pool using only that arm too. The trainer with the blood test kit takes a step towards him and Oliver takes a step back, tucking both his hands under his armpits. 

“You’re six two Phelps you think she’s going to wrestle you?” 

“Lochte.” Oliver says pointedly. 

“Boy.” Bob grabs his elbow, “The day I call you Lochte is the day you know you’ve gone too far. How many laps did you do?” 

“Not enough.” Oliver answers, deliberately walking around the trainers. 

“Bike.” Bob steers him towards the back, “And if you-“ 

“I don’t want a needle.” Oliver says, “I don’t wanna…” He stops talking and wipes at his eyes with his soaking wet hand. 

“It wasn’t my decision.” Bob tells him, pushing Oliver towards the locker rooms. 

“I know.” Oliver chokes out. 

“Had I known I would have pulled you out.” 

“I know.” Oliver says again. 

“That was hard.” Bob knocks Oliver’s hands away from his face, “You did good, I’m proud.” 

Oliver bites his lip and nods. 

“Warm down. Medical. Press and then your dads.” Bob says, “I promise.” 

*

“If everyone will take their seat.” The press coordinator says, indicating at the reporters to sit down, “We can get this started. Pictures will be allowed once the athletes sit down and we will call out your names for question. Calling out of turn will get you removed from this press conference and your credentials might be stripped.” 

Michael stops paying attention and focuses his attention to the opening in the curtain to the left of the platform trying to catch a glimpse of Oliver. 

“Doctor Andrews checked with medical.” Ryan says not looking up from his phone, “Ols’ range of motion is good but he says it hurts… They can’t do anything else without x-rays.” 

“Did they give him something for the pain?” Michael asks, he rubs his temple and leans further against the back of his chair, “Like what can they give him that won’t show up for doping?” 

“He didn’t want it, he thought they’d give him a shot. He walked out of medical” Ryan keeps scrolling through his messages, “They want us to go back to medical with him after this.”

“They want us to go with him?” Michael asks incredulous, “Like we get to see our kid?” 

Ryan nods but doesn’t look happy, “I just want to know what happened fuck. Do you know the shit I pulled in the village and they never asked to talk to my dad fuck.” 

“I was there.” Michael points out, “I remember.”

“Can they do x-rays here or are they gonna have to take him somewhere? Fuck if they have to inject him with dye again.” 

“He wasn’t supposed to anchor.” Ryan says, angrier than he usually gets, “Not when he had another race. Not when that other kid didn’t pull his weight. Who the fuck changed that?”

“Ry it’s going to -“

“No.” Ryan says firmly, “They don’t fucking treat our kid this way. Don’t tell me it’s going to be okay. This is fucking not okay. Who runs this shit today?” 

They’re talking below a whisper in the back of the room seemingly invisible to the world’s press corps waiting for their son. One thing they’ve learned over the past month is that their status as Olympians has taken a back seat to their role as Oliver’s parents. 

“He wasn’t okay.” Ryan shakes his head, “That’s not okay.” 

Oliver’s shoulder had been in a brace between his races and they’d seen him favor his right side in the last few meters of his race. His time had been higher than his usual best; he was off his game. 

“Tal’s back at the hotel with Devon.” Ryan holds up his phone again.

Talan had gotten lost in the swimming venue and mistaken a journalist for a volunteer. When security had brought him back to them after the race was finished he’d been in the middle of a full blown panic attack. Devon had taken him back to the hotel to give him Ativan and let him sleep it off. They didn’t want Talan to be worried about Oliver on top of everything else. 

“Yeah it’s good he isn’t here.” Michael agrees with the statement Ryan didn’t have to make. “Tell him we’re going to be back to eat with him.” 

“He’s asleep Dev says.” Ryan taps his screen waiting for an update, “Fuck why can’t like… I hate we’re not with him there.” 

“We don’t have a choice.” Michael rubs his hands over his face, “Tal’s good with Devon and Charlie we need to be here for Ols.” 

They’re both letting the words go unsaid: Oliver needs them more. It’s been like this for a year no matter how hard they try, in the end Talan seems to always get the short end. Talan is Talan though and he either doesn’t notice or realizes that Oliver needs it more. 

“What’s taking them so long.” Ryan groans, “If we were that late they would have-“ 

“Hold your flashes,” The press coordinator reminds the press, “The United States Men’s Swimming team.” 

Michael expects Ryan to make a sarcastic comment but his eyes are scanning for Oliver. 

Oliver is the last one to come out. They can’t tell if his shoulder is braced under the Team USA hoodie he’s wearing but he looks tired. He doesn’t smile at the reporters but he attempts to smile once he spots Michael and Ryan. 

They haven’t been in the same room as him in three weeks; they’ve seen him over the glass barriers separating the crowd from the athletes. They’ve grabbed his hand and taken his flowers and ruffled his hair. They’ve yelled that they’re proud of him; they’ve cried over his victories and worried endlessly the few times he looked hurt. 

Oliver speaks before the press coordinator can call out for the first question. 

"Am I in the right place?” Oliver asks. He picks up his name card between two of his fingers, “’Cause, I'm Oliver Phelps-Lochte so I dunno who Oliver Phelps is but if I'm in the wrong place someone can just tell me and I'll peace out." 

“Fuck they did it again.” Michael groans. He squeezes Ryan’s arm. 

The press keeps abbreviating Oliver’s name. It’s the second time he’s been referred to by only one of his last names. The first time he’d laughed but that had been a few days ago when he wasn’t as tired. Now Oliver just looks furious. 

"No, you're in the right-" The press coordinator soothes

"Was it hard to spell Lochte?” Oliver asks again. He frowns angrily at her. 

“Don’t Oliver.” Ryan rubs a hand over his face, “It’s not-” 

"Well it's certainly-" 

"I just want my name spelled right." Oliver says dejected. “I’m Oliver Phelps-Lochte. Both names.” Oliver holds up his credentials.

“We can start with the first question.” The press coordinator says, ignoring Oliver.

“This question is for Oliver,” A woman in the third row stands up. 

Oliver isn’t listening. He grabs a pen from the table and starts fiddling with his name card, once he’s done he props it back up in front of him. The name card now reads Oliver Phelps-Lochte. Oliver returns his attention to the reporter, clearly pleased with his work. 

“How’s your shoulder?” 

“It’s fine.” Oliver snaps. “Don’t worry about it.” 

Oliver’s been charming the press for a week for he’s clearly reached his limit for reporters. He sinks down in his chair. 

“Do you agree,” One reporter asks the swimmer who’d taken Oliver’s original spot in the relay, “With the changes in the line up today?” 

“It was a team decision.” The swimmer answers, “I think some decisions are made for publicity and some of us are here for ratings more than actual abilities it’s-” 

“I won that race for you.” Oliver speaks up, “Shut up.” 

“Sorry?” The swimmer pushes his chair back to stare at Oliver behind everyone else. 

“Eight gold medals.” Oliver says, staring right at him, “You got one and it’s mine.” 

“Fuuck.” Ryan groans, “Dude is this happening?” 

“Yeah.” Michael tries to catch Oliver’s glance, “It is.”   
“IF we could have another question.” The coordinator tries to steer them away from a fight, “Second row, number 32.” 

"Oliver.” The blonde woman asks as she stands up. 

“Maybe she’ll ask what his favourite cereal is.” Michael hopes, “Who he has a crush on.” 

“What do you think you missed out on coming from a family without a moth-" 

"No." Oliver interrupts, “That’s rude. I’m not answering that.” 

*

In the tiny curtained off medical room somewhere in the wings of the pool, Michael and Ryan finally get to be alone with their kid. 

Oliver sits on a gurney and he dangles his legs over the edge. He stops biting his nails when he sees them walk in. 

“Nice press conference Gator.” Ryan kisses Oliver’s head, “Cool the attitude next time yeah?” 

“They asked dumb questions.” Oliver says and he goes back to chewing on his thumbnail, “They didn’t get my name right.” 

“That’s not going to happen again.” Michael takes Oliver’s hand away from his mouth before he hugs him. “How’s your shoulder?” 

“Burns.” Oliver answers truthfully, “Like all the time. Hard to move.”

Once Michael lets him go, Oliver’s fingers go straight back into his mouth. They’re all oddly quiet. Michael watches Ryan who’s entirely focused on Oliver. Finally Ryan carefully reaches for Oliver’s shoulder. 

“You can move it yeah?” Ryan asks. He keeps his hand cupped over Oliver shoulder and slowly raises Oliver’s elbow. “You were breathing to the right.”

Michael hadn’t even noticed and Ryan hadn’t said anything during the race but up until two years ago Ryan had been Oliver’s coach. Ryan who’d seemed so relaxed in his own racing days now has laser sharp focus on Oliver’s performance. 

“I can move it.” Oliver stops following the careful moves Ryan’s guiding him through and extends his arm out and moves it in a circle backwards, “It just burns like here.” Oliver takes Ryan’s hand and moves it to a spot on the back of his shoulder. 

“One to ten.” Ryan asks, pressing his fingers against the spot Oliver pointed out. 

“Seven. Like a nine when I was warming down.” 

“Did you tell them?” Michael jumps in because no one had told them Oliver was hurting this bad. 

“Who cares if I’m hurting? Like I’m-” Oliver shakes his head.

“We care Gator,” Ryan interupts, “we care if you hurt.” 

“I’m not gonna quit.” Oliver 

“Why did you anchor?” Ryan asks.

“I dunno okay.” Oliver looks away from them. He looks up at the ceiling but his face crumples and tears spill over his eyes. He chokes back a sob before dropping his chin to his chest. 

Oliver tries to bring his knees up to hide his face but Ryan pushes them back down.

“What’s going on?” Ryan takes Oliver’s face in his hands and wipes his tears away with his thumbs, “You did good don’t cry.” 

Oliver cries too hard to talk, he lets his head drop against Ryan shoulders and sobs into Ryan’s Team USA hoodie. 

Ryan doesn’t talk. He hugs Oliver tight and leans his head against his son’s. Michael sits next to Oliver on the gurney and rubs his back. 

“I’m tired.” Oliver says once his sobs quiet down, his voice still breaks, “No wants to eat with me.”

“No one will eat with you?” Michael asks unsure if he heard Oliver right. “From the team?” 

Oliver nods, “They hate me.” 

“You’ve been eating alone?” Ryan says trying to understand how not having anyone to eat with has upset Oliver enough for Michael and him to be called. 

“Coach…Grandpa eats with me.” Oliver sobs, “Or the gymnastic team-“ 

“You’re eating with the gymnastic team.” Ryan says puzzled, “Not with the swim-“ 

Oliver shakes his head against Ryan. 

“Our gymnastic team?” Michael asks like it matters.

“No Canada.” Oliver sniffs, “I was alone and they sat with me.” 

“That’s why you’re upset?” Michael tries to understand, “Because you don’t have anyone to eat with?” 

Oliver turns away from Ryan to look at Michael. His face is tear strained and his eyes are red. This Oliver is so far removed from the Oliver they saw after his first race that Michael knows this isn’t the only thing bothering him. 

“No one talks to me.” Oliver says quietly, “They don’t want me here.” 

Michael remembers a time when he’d felt the same way but at least he’d had Ryan and having Ryan as a friend had made everything better. Oliver, he realizes, is more like him than he’d ever thought of except right now Oliver doesn’t have a Ryan to make it better. 

“They’re jealous Ols.” Michael says quietly, “Because you’re good and-“ 

“Who cares.” Oliver argues, “They hate me, he knocked my tray over.” 

“Who knocked your tray over.” 

“Fucking-” 

“Language.” 

“Eric, the dude at the-” 

“He knocked your tray over?” 

“He keeps saying I’m just here ‘cause of you. Like I didn’t-” 

“Oliver.” Michael puts both of his hands on Ols’ shoulders, “You got eight gold medals.” 

“Yeah and it sucks.” Oliver says, “I wanna go home.”

“You’re can come back with us tonight.” Michael offers, “Tal’s waiting for us to go eat.”

Oliver nods before Michael’s even done talking. 

“You got a day off tomorrow? You can stay with us.” Michael reaffirms.   
“You’re letting medical look at your shoulder first though.” Ryan says, “Take your shirt off let me look at it.” 

With help, Oliver pulls off his hoodie and his t-shirt. There’s a bandage around his shoulder and Ryan unwraps it right away. 

“Does it help?” Ryan runs his fingers over the green tape under the bandage that’s crisscrossing around Oliver’s shoulder.

“No.” Oliver admits, “But the lady was like super excited about it. You can take it off.” 

“I don’t know if we’re allowed to.” Michael cuts in. 

“He’s our fucking kid.” Ryan snaps, “If all they did for him was put fucking duct tape on his shoulder-“ 

“It’s kinesiology tape Ry” Michael moves his hands from Oliver’s back to Ryan’s shoulder because he can tell Ryan’s feeling helpless and he knows Ryan can’t stand not being able to help his kids. 

“Yeah and it was bullshit twenty years ago.” 

Oliver smiles when Ryan swears. He leans forward to let Ryan pull the tape off his shoulder. 

“It made your skin all red.” Ryan rubs his thumb over Oliver’s skin, when the red mark doesn’t rub away he looks at Michael outraged. 

“It’s fine Dad. It doesn’t hurt.” Oliver jumps in, “I swear it doesn’t hurt.” 

Ryan carefully pulls the rest of the tape off Oliver’s shoulder in silence. After a few seconds Oliver’s eyes start to close. 

“Sleep.” Michael tells Oliver, he glances out from the curtain and doesn’t see anyone walking towards them “I don’t think we’re going anywhere for a bit.” 

Oliver is asleep seconds later. He curls up on his uninjured side and Ryan puts his hoodie over him. Michael jumps down from the gurney to give Oliver more room. 

“He’s okay Ry.” Michael tries, “He’s just beat.” 

“He’s eating with Canada.” Ryan answers. He picks the last bits of tape off of Oliver’s skin. “He’s not fine. He doesn’t sound fine. They’re not-” He doesn’t finish. 

“They may not clear him to swim.” Michael says once he knows Oliver is for sure asleep, “We don’t know.”   
“He’s getting his trays knocked over? Did you not hear him? Who does that happen to?” 

“Me.” Michael admits. 

“Yeah before I got there.” Ryan says, “It’s not happening to him. I’ll fuck that guy up. He’s what like? Twenty-eight? Picking on a seventeen year old. File a fucking complaint or-” 

“He’s gonna come with us tonight.” Michael starts to form a plan, “He can rest it tomorrow and if they let him swim he can do his last race. If he wants to go home. We go home. Tomorrow.” 

“We can let him go home.” Ryan groans. “He’s gotta do that race.” 

“If he can-”

“We don’t know he can’t.” Ryan argues, “Think all the races you felt like quitting would you have been good just going home? He’s gotta do it.” 

“I’m not gonna make him do it.” Michael fights back, “You’re not gonna make him do it. No one’s making him do anything.” 

“Let’s see what medical has to say.” Ryan offers, “Once we know if he can swim or not then we can figure it out.” 

They move Oliver from the wings of the swimming venue to the actual athlete medical center a few minutes away. After an MRI, a consultation with an orthopedist and a conference with his surgeon before Oliver is cleared to swim the next day. Oliver sleeps through most of it. He wakes up once the doctors leave the room. 

“What are they gonna do?” Oliver mumbles sleepily, pulling the heart monitor clip off his finger, “Why’s that on me anyways?” 

“They can freeze your shoulder.” Ryan explains, “But then it can get worst Ols and we’re not going to do that.” 

“That’s a needle anyways.” Oliver shakes his head, “Not happening.” 

“Everything else will make you drowsy or it’ll show up on doping… We can’t give you anything strong until tomorrow Gator.” 

“It’s okay.” Oliver nods, “I kinda knew.” 

“If you don’t want to do it just say it.” Michael offers, “We can go home tomorrow. We can go home tonight.”   
“Do you want to come to the hotel with us?” Ryan asks Oliver, hours of watching his kid in a hospital changing his earlier attitude about quitting early, “What you want to do not what you think they want you to do.”

“Can I come back?” Oliver opens his eyes to ask, “I’m not done.” 

“Same deal, you just stay with us.” Michael offers, “You’re not racing tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” Oliver nods, “I wanna go with you.”

“Ok.” Michael hands him his clothes, “Let’s go.” 

Oliver wraps the sheet of his bed to hide what the hospital gown doesn’t cover. He walks to the bathroom to change. 

“Bob wants to talk to him.” Michael says, checking his phone for the first time in hours, “He’s waiting out-” 

“He doesn’t get to.” Ryan snaps, “He’s fired.”

“That’s harsh Ry.” 

“Our kid swam hurt.” Ryan holds up one finger, “Our kid’s getting bullied by the team,” He holds up a second finger, “Our kid got put in a role he wasn’t ready for. Dude that’s three strikes.” 

“We’re not firing him.” 

“Ols swam hurt.” Ryan shakes his head, “How does that not matter to you.” 

“Fu-” Michael has to bite his lip to keep himself from swearing at Ryan. “I’m gonna go talk to him. You get Ols ready to go. When’s the last time we checked on Tal. Fuck.” 

Michael walks out of the curtained off room without looking back at Ryan or giving him the chance to talk. 

Ryan picks up Oliver’s ice pack and his swimming bag. He rummages through it for a second making sure nothing had been left behind at the venue. He finds Oliver’s stars and stripes towel folded at the bottom. 

“I don’t think they like you.” Oliver tells Ryan when he comes back into the room and reaches for his icepack, “Like the people who work for the team.” 

“They didn’t like me when I was swimming for them.” Ryan shrugs. “I got hurt all the time.”   
“D’you really say you’d pull me out if they didn’t let you see me?” 

“Yeah.” Ryan says putting his arm around Oliver’s shoulder, “I don’t like watching you hurt.” 

“I said I’d quit if they didn’t let me see you.” Oliver admits. 

“I love you dude.” Ryan kisses the top of Oliver’s head. 

Oliver leans against him for a second. 

“C’mon Gator. Lets get you home.” 

 

*

“It wasn’t my decision.” Bob tells Michael as soon as he walks into the waiting room.

“You could have protested.” Michael says angrily, “I’m sure as the person we’re trusting to look out for Oliver-“

“Do you think I was happy about it Phelps?” Bob almost snarls, “You think I sat back and let them do that to him? I threatened to pull him.” 

“Then why was he there?”

“Because he wouldn’t let me.” Bob breathes, “Maybe you remember the last kid I tried to pull out of competition who was stubborn enough to disagree with me.” 

“He’s not me!” Michael bites back, “You were suppose to… He’s your grand-” 

“He won a gold medal for guys who wouldn’t do the same thing for him.” Bob says bitterly, “If you’re going to think that I had anything to do with Oliver anchoring. I told them we could pull him out.” 

“We gave him the choice he wants to go back.”

“Of course he does.” Bob says like offering Oliver a way out was the stupidest idea Michael’s ever had. “He’s tired and he misses you. Going back is easier.”

“He’s coming back with us.” Michael insists. 

“That’s a stupid decision. Let him go back and sleep it off. Give him a day and he’ll be glad he stayed.”

“He’ll go back.”

“No you take him home he’s done.” Bob says, “You bring him back and tell him he did good and he doesn’t have to do anything else he’s not doing that last race. He needs to do that last race.”

“He’s hurt.” 

“He got cleared by medical. He’ll be fine. Everyone told you he’s fine.” 

“He’ll be back tomorrow night. Before curfew.” 

“He’s coming back with me tonight.” 

“Ryan wants to fire you.” Michael can’t believe he’s using it as a threat, “I’m sticking my neck out-”

“If you think I care what Lochte has to say.” Bob almost laughs, “I care about Oliver and Oliver will do whatever you tell him to do. You told him to come home so he’s going home. You can’t treat him like a kid here Michael.” 

“We gotta sign papers.” Ryan interrupts, “Both of us, it’ll take two seconds.” 

“I’ll be right there.” Michael tells him, he turns back to look at Bob, “We’re his parents and he’s coming home with us.” 

“I called Tal.” Ryan says as they flip through the pages of release forms, each putting their signature on every page, “He’s awake but he’s kind of groggy. I told him to go back to sleep. He’s going back to our room.” 

“I just want to have them both in the same place.” 

“Yeah this is harder than we thought it’d be.” Ryan admits, “I never thought.”

They sign the last page and hand the form back over. 

Oliver is standing in the hallway near the elevator next to Bob and Bob is holding onto his swim bag. 

“I’m.” Oliver looks at the floor instead of their faces, “I’m gonna go back with Coa-Grandpa.” 

“This is bullshit.” Ryan exclaims. 

“Dad.” Oliver calls out, “It’s okay. I’m gonna- Don’t be-”

“I’m not mad at you.” Ryan reassures, “I just want you to do what you want. Not what you think people want you to do.” 

“He thinks you want him to go.” Bob answers for Oliver, “He wants to go back.” 

“I didn’t say.” Oliver protests. 

“Oliver it’s okay.” Ryan says, regretting his outburst. “If it’s your decision. It’s good.” 

“If you’re okay it’s all we want.” Michael adds, “We’ll see you next race.” 

“I’m okay.” Oliver says sounding a little braver, “You got me.” 

It’s harder watching Oliver get into a different car than it was watching him leave for training camp. Once they’re in their own car on the way back to the hotel Michael leans his head back against the headrest. 

“He’s gonna be okay after this right?” He asks Ryan. 

“We were.” Ryan answers, “We did it more than once.” 

“It’s harder for him. Because of us.” 

“Eight gold medals.” Ryan says incredulously, “We raised a kid who got eight gold medals.”

They let it sink in for a second because it’s the first time all day they’ve had a second of quiet. 

“And a kid who wants pizza.” Ryan adds after his phone as gone off, “Tal’s awake.” 

“I think we’re like twenty minutes from the hotel. Tell him to order room service.” 

“I’m not making him eat alone.” Ryan groans, “He’s like… We ditched him today.” 

“He had Devon.” Michael points out. 

“Devon’s not us.” 

Michael shrugs in the dark. 

They drive back past the swimming venue, which looks odd without crowds, and see Oliver’s face being projected on the side of the building. 

“What d’you think Bowman told him to get him to come back?” Ryan asks.

“I think Ols made up his own mind.” Michael answers. 

“No way.” Ryan shakes his head, “Bowman pulled the same shit on him as he did on you.”

“Stop.” Michael warns, “We’re not having this fight again.” 

“I’m just saying. Whatever happens after this. He’s not coaching Ols.” 

“He got eight gold medals. So whatever the fuck he did it worked.” 

“Were we just not with the same kid? Is that how you say win? Cause he didn’t look like he was winning.” 

“Stop. I’m not asking you again.” 

“Your word isn’t it.” Ryan reminds him, “What I say-” 

“Counts.” Michael rolls his eyes, “Whatever.” 

“What?!” 

“You weren’t there.” Michael says, “You weren’t in-” 

“Yeah? You want to start?” Ryan tries, “You really want to go there?” 

The volunteer riding in the passenger seat clears her throat and both Ryan and Michael go silent. 

“This isn’t over.” Ryan warns. “We’re not done.” 

“Great.” Michael answers sarcastically, “Can’t wait.” 

 

*


	4. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a one shot of Oliver's life before Rotterdam. It could have stood alone but it's better here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oliver and Evan are seventeen but they are also entirely fictional.

****

**Daytona Beach**

**January  
Six months to Rotterdam. **

Oliver spends the summer holidays and the first few months of school training and living in Baltimore. He alternates between practice, workouts and home schooling in order to make it to Rotterdam and to Harvard all in the same year. His parents alternate living with him and living back in Florida with Talan. 

His grandfather had agreed to coach him under the condition that Oliver show enough dedication to his training. For the beginning of the summer, Oliver had joined the Meadowbrooks’ morning practice car pool program, getting rides from random moms to go to practices where he wasn’t the fastest. He spent weeks swimming with the junior team while his dad stared at him from the picture hanging on the wall. 

At the speed club in Daytona, Oliver had always been the fastest but after weeks in Baltimore his name still hovered at the bottom of the time sheet. He had more homework than he cared to think about for summer vacation. When Tal texted him about surfing, bonfires and stealing beer out of the fridge in the garage all Oliver wanted to do was go home. 

Oliver wanted to make the team. He wanted his picture up on the wall next to his dad’s. He wanted to go to training camp and wear his last name on a team USA swimming cap. He wanted to prove that he was great because of his hard work, not because of DNA and talented parents. He wanted people to know he wasn’t six and afraid to dive off the block. 

“We don’t have to stay here.” Michael had offered him after one particularly awful practice where Oliver had earned himself extra sets and had suffered through a painful physiotherapy appointment afterwards, “We can go home, you can keep training with your dad. It’s a three hour trip Ols.” 

Oliver had refused. He felt guilty. He hated that his family was split up because of him. If he quit everyone’s sacrifices would have been for nothing. 

“Your dad and Tal can come up for a bit.” Michael had offered instead, “They miss you-” 

“I’ll see them what?” Oliver had been in the middle of finishing some algebra homework, “Like ten minutes? It’s stupid.” 

“Ols.” Michael hadn’t known how to phrase it, “If you don’t want to be here we go home. It doesn’t matter. If you don’t think you can-” 

“You think I can’t do it?” 

“No.” Michael had quickly recovered, “I don’t remember anyone giving me a way out. I’m just saying if you don’t want to… We go home… It’s not-” 

“I don’t want a way out.” Oliver had interrupted. “I just don’t want to suck.”

Oliver hadn’t thought of how hard it would be to be away from home or how difficult it would be to balance training with school and with his own life. 

He’d stuck it out and his times had improved. He’d started training harder outside the pool and a few weeks after getting to Baltimore, his grandfather had shown up after morning practice and asked him if he was ready to get back in the pool. 

When Michael had to go back to Florida, his aunt Hilary had come to stay with him. Oliver had started eating her weird food and drinking smoothies he was sure were made with seaweed. She made him go running with her before he started his homework, even when it had started to snow. 

Oliver had flown back to Florida with his grandparents for Christmas and after a few days in his house, with Talan and all their dogs he’d realized he didn’t want to go back to Baltimore. Making the Olympic team wasn’t worth missing his family. 

*

On the last day of winter vacation, Talan asks Oliver to drive him to school the next day and Oliver refuses.

“You suck.” Talan tells him while they’re brushing their teeth side by side before bed, “I gotta get dad to drop me off like a baby.” 

“I can’t.” Oliver spits out toothpaste, “The pool’s closer to school. It doesn’t make sense to come back-” 

“I can go to the pool.” 

“At five am?” 

“I can swim.” Talan challenges, “Probably beat you.” 

“Yeah.” Oliver laughs. He flexes his muscles for Talan’s benefit because Talan still has baby fat hanging around, “I wanna see you try.” 

“Jerk.” Talan leaves his toothbrush on the counter, “What’s the point of you being home if you’re not gonna drive me to school.” 

“Dude.” Oliver rolls his eyes, “It makes no sense. The pool is five minutes from school. I gotta drive fifteen minutes back here to pick you up and twenty minutes back to school.” 

“Whatever.” Talan grumbles, “You shoulda just stayed with grandma.” 

“Come on.” Oliver grabs Talan’s arm before he walks out, “Don’t be like that.” 

“Whatever.” Talan repeats. He wiggles out of Oliver’s grip. “You’re too cool.” 

“Baby.” Oliver calls out after him, “I’ll drive you back.” 

Instead of answering Oliver, Tal shoots him the finger behind his back. 

“Hey!” Michael reaches the top of the stairs just in time to catch Talan. He grabs his shirt and forces him to turn around, “Apologize.” 

“Make him apologize.” Tal struggles against Michael’s grip, “Lemme go.” 

“What he do?” Michael asks. 

“He won’t drive me to school.” Talan complains, “He said I was fat.”

“No way!” Oliver cries out, “I never said-” 

“Why would he drive you to school?” Michael asks puzzled, “School is closer to the pool.” 

“Cause he has a car.” Talan mumbles, “So I don’t have to get dropped off like a baby.” 

“He said I shoulda stayed in Baltimore.” Oliver rats out. 

“Did you?” Michael asks

“No.” Talan lies, he shrugs again to get Michael to drop his grip

“Yes!” Oliver insists, “He did!” 

“Tal.” Michael lets go of his youngest son’s shirt to grab his shoulder, “Did you?”

“Yes.” Talan admits.

“Talan!” Michael shakes his head, “Say you’re sorry.” 

“I’m sorry.” Talan mumbles insincerely. 

“Oh yeah.” Oliver scoffs, “That sounds like-” 

“Talan Michael.” Michael warns. 

“Devon.” Oliver adds. 

“Oliver.” Michael holds a hand up to stop him, “Quit while you’re ahead.”

“Fine.” Oliver stops. “I can’t drive him to school, we’ll both be late.” 

“I know.” Michael says, “Talan apologize for real.” 

“I’m sorry.” Talan huffs.

“I’m giving you one more time.” Michael warns, “And then you’re taking the bus to school. Do it right.” 

“I’m sorry.” Talan lifts his head to look at Oliver, “You’re my best friend and I love you.” 

After Talan says it, Michael drops his grip. He hadn’t expected Talan to recite the apology they’d forced the boys to say to each other when they were kids. 

“I can’t drive you to school because we’ll both be late.” Oliver explains to him, “I’ll drive you home after school.” 

“Fine.” Talan says. He picks up his dog as soon as the French bulldog reaches the top stair. “I’m going to bed. It’s whatever.”

Talan walks away leaving Michael and Oliver standing in the hallway. Bert, Oliver’s chocolate lab, makes his way up the stairs and sits next to Oliver. 

“He slept in your bed.” Michael tells him.

“Yeah I missed him too.” Oliver reaches down to rub the dog’s head. 

“Tal missed you.” Michael adds, “Go to bed, your Dad got you some new uniform pants, they’re in your closet.” 

Oliver’s bedroom is the furthest down the hall. Past the two guest rooms and the linen closet. It’s clean and while Talan’s room is papered with ripped out pages of surfing magazines and posters of girls in bikinis Oliver’s walls are blue and only decorated by a framed picture of his parents swimming against each other in London. 

Bert jumps on his bed as soon as the door is opened. He wags his tail at Oliver before settling himself at the foot of the bed. 

Like Michael promised, the black uniform pants are hanging smack in the middle of the closet, next to the rest of his uniform. Oliver picks pieces of it out, folds them and drops them close to his swim bag; he doesn’t want to spend his first Monday evening in detention for forgetting his tie. 

“Hey.” 

“Motherfuck Evan.” 

Oliver recognizes the voice the second he hears it but the surprise still scares him. 

“You don’t have a mom so I can’t.” Evan shrugs, “Hey.” 

Evan is shivering. He’s wearing shorts, a t-shirt and flip flops which definitely aren’t warm enough for January. 

“D’you climb up?” Oliver asks, walking across his room to close his window. 

“Yeah… Just like off the hose by the back and across the edge, Tal’s window has an edge and I can get on the roof…” He trails off, “You never said you were home.” 

“Didn’t know I was staying.” Oliver leans back against his window, “I wanted to like decide without…” 

“Telling me.”

“Yeah.” Oliver agrees. He chews his lip. 

Evan’s tanned and Oliver can tell his hair is tangled. Staring at him makes his chest feel too small. 

“You’re not sorry.” Evan guesses. 

“I did what I had to do.” Oliver says, “I didn’t leave to piss you off I left to like get better…” 

“You’re back?” 

“Yeah. ‘Till graduation.” Oliver says. 

“Are you on some sort of weird no sex thing?” Evan sits cross-legged on Oliver’s bed. 

“No. What the fuck.” Oliver laughs. 

“You afraid I’m gonna climb back out and leave?” Evan asks. He pops off his flip-flops and leans back against Oliver’s pillows. 

“No.” 

“You’re blocking my exit.” Evan points out. 

“I don’t want you to leave.” Oliver admits and then he feels like he can breathe. He moves away from the window and sits on his own bed. He pats Bert on the back until the dog jumps off the bed and settles himself on the dog cushion in the corner of the room. 

He hasn’t seen Evan since the summer but they’ve been texting back and forth constantly. Messages that got dirtier once they were both in bed. Pictures that Oliver knows would get him killed if they ever leaked out. 

“I snuck out to come here.” Evan points out, “I-” 

Oliver kisses him. Something they haven’t done before, something he hasn’t done with anyone who wasn’t a girl at a party on a dare or at the beach to shut his friends up. 

Evan’s skin is still cold and Oliver tries to cover as much of him as he can. He climbs on top of Evan and leans him back. He spreads his legs out, trying to touch as much of him as he can. Evan’s taller than him but Oliver is just desperate to feel Evan’s skin against his own.

Evan kisses him back, opening his mouth and pushing his tongue against Oliver’s. 

They’re both frantic for it and when Evan starts to grind up against Oliver, Oliver holds Evan’s hips still and thrusts up against him. 

Evan moans and Oliver kisses him to shut him up. Evan’s hands reach for Oliver’s pajama pants and he clumsily pushes them down before doing the same to his own. He wraps his hand around Oliver and a few strokes later Oliver is biting at his shoulder to keep from crying out. Oliver keeps rubbing against him and Evan finishes a few seconds later. 

They’ve been friends for years but this is a first. They’ve been teasing each other about it for months and Oliver hadn’t had time to think about what it meant. Now that they’re both half naked and breathing hard on his bed it starts to feel real. 

“Gross dude.” Evan lifts his head to look down at the mess covering his pajama pants and his stomach, “I walked here.” 

Oliver looks around for something to clean himself off; he grabs a box of tissue from his bedside table and hands it to Evan. 

“You can borrow clothes.” Oliver offers. He wants to lean against Evan but Evan sits up and starts wiping himself clean. 

“Yeah I’m gonna have to.” Evan laughs, “I gotta go before my mom checks my room.”

Evan walks over to Oliver’s dresser and opens the right drawer his first try. He pulls out a pair of University of Florida pajama pants.

“You look hot.” Oliver tells him, “I’m still hard.” 

Evan is in the middle of changing; he stands up straight with no pants on and stares at Oliver still sitting up in bed. 

“I wanna stay.” Evan says, “But like… I snuck out.”

“I know.” Oliver knows they can’t. He glances at his phone for the time and knows he has six hours before he has to wake up for practice. “You swimming tomorrow?” 

“I quit.” Evan admits, “Sucked without you, no one else good there. Your dad sending me to the showers alone wasn’t as much fun.”

Evan lives down the street but they don’t go to school together. Oliver doesn’t want him to leave. He’s been waiting months for this to happen and now that it has nothing seems like it’s going the way he said it had. 

“I can probably like get you downstairs.” Oliver offers, “My dads are sleeping, I got the alarm code.”

“Um no.” Evan declines, “I’ll climb down, it’s cool.” 

“See you around?” Oliver tries. 

Evan grins at him. He brushes his dirty blonde tightly wound curls away from his face.

“Yeah. Call me jerk.” Evan reminds him, “If you see my dad tomorrow you didn’t see me.” 

Oliver watches Evan climb out his bedroom window and waits to make sure he doesn’t hear a crash before turning off his light and turning on his side. 

Instead of sleeping he reaches for his phone and flicks through the pictures of Evan.

*

Oliver wakes up late for practice. He fumbles around his room to gather his things and finds his car blocked in the driveway by his dad’s truck. He has to move it before he can leave. 

Somehow Oliver only has one pair of goggles in his swim bag and they break an hour into practice. Even though he’s not done his sets he pulls himself out of the pool to try and fix the problem before the chlorine makes him go blind. 

“Hey.” Conor Dwyer sits down next to him, “Trouble?” 

“Yeah.” Oliver turns his head to hopefully hide the hickey he’d found on his neck while brushing his teeth earlier, “Strap snapped.” 

“Your dad around?” 

“No.” Oliver struggles to unknot the elastic, “My grandpa’s sending my sets… I gotta just… He’s gonna fly in on weekends…” 

“I don’t think Evan’s cleaned out his locker.” Conor offers, “He still doesn’t know if he’s quitting. Take a pair of his.” 

Evan’s locker is right across from his in the locker room and Oliver knows the combination by heart. Evan’s swim bag is still there. Once he’s found a pair of goggles Oliver goes to slam the door shut but finds his own face staring at him from a print out of a Baltimore newspaper. 

*

Oliver notices he’s missing his uniform pants as he’s getting dressed after practice. He curses loudly and doesn’t even bother closing his locker before running out to his car. 

His morning schedule is timed perfectly, he usually has enough time to get to school and eat breakfast before his first class. Now he knows he’ll be late for first period and that it’ll probably earn him a detention. He figures the detention for being late will be less severe than the detention for showing up to school in basketball shorts so he drives home. 

He bursts through the kitchen and runs past their housekeeper without bothering to say hello. 

“My Oliver.” He hears her calling after him, “School’s started.” 

“Forgot my uniform.” Oliver gets to his room and grabs the pair on the floor of his closet. He turns around to run out and almost body slams Miss C to the ground. 

“Slow down boy.” She holds a hand up, “You hurt yourself.” 

“I gotta go.” Oliver insists, “I’ll get detention.” 

“You leave home and you forget My Oliver.” She shakes her head at him, “You put your clothes in the basket or I don’t wash them.” 

“My clothes were in my basket.” Oliver doesn’t have time for a lecture about his cleanliness habits when he knows that someone is lucky to even see the laundry basket amidst the mess of Talan’s bedroom. 

“No Oliver.” She shakes her fingers at him, “Pajama pants on the floor.” 

Oliver cringes at the thought of Miss C picking up Evan’s dirty clothes but she mistakes his shame for an apology and lets him leave his room. 

“Take a muffin.” She calls out after him, “Have nice day!” 

*

Oliver feels like the new kid. He walks into his AP English class twenty minutes late and everyone stares at him. All the spots near his friends are taken and no one moves to give him a desk. He has to settle himself in the corner near the back next to some kids he’s never talked to in his entire life. 

He’s behind in English because he’d missed a week of work before Christmas vacation. He has no idea what his teacher is talking about and his lack of sleep starts to catch up with him. He tries to force himself to take notes, to pay attention but his mind just drifts away. 

In chemistry, he’s back sitting with his friends and he finds out there’s a senior class trip to Mexico. At lunch, all of Oliver’s friends are talking about it. Oliver loosens his tie and drops his cafeteria tray at his usual spot at the table his friends have sat at since freshman year. 

“Are you rooming with anyone?” His friend Phil asks him. Phil reaches to grab the mashed potatoes from Oliver’s tray and trades them for his chicken instead. 

“No. I-” 

“Room with me?” Phil offers. “I like told Colin I wouldn’t pick until you came back. It’ll be good times dude. D’you know how many chicks you can pickup saying you’re going to the Olympics?”

“I can’t.” Oliver takes a bite of his chicken, “Not going.” 

“What? How can you not go? Are your dads not letting you? They still blaming you for-” 

“I got training dude.” Oliver reminds him, “I can’t miss a week. Not this close to it.” 

“You’re missing Cancun?” 

Oliver nods because his mouth his full. 

The table is oddly quiet and Phil won’t even look at him. 

“Maybe if you’re not going you shouldn’t sit here.” Phil says quietly.

“Shut the fuck up.” Oliver shakes his head and opens his milk carton.

“You can’t talk about it with us so-”

“I’ve been to Mexico. My dads have a house there.” 

“Dude we’re all going like…” Phil shakes his head back, “You haven’t been here all year and now you’re not coming? Like I don’t know… We were kinda pissed about you being gone but if you’re not gonna go to Cuba you shouldn’t like-” 

“Are you fucking serious?” Oliver puts down his milk disgusted, “Fuck you dude.”

Oliver pushes his tray away, grabs his backpack and stands up. The anger balls up in his stomach and he avoids the glance of people he’s known since third grade. 

Their school is small and Oliver doesn’t see a free table or anyone else to sit with. He throws most of his uneaten lunch in a trashcan and heads out. He’s walking out when Talan walks up and stops him. 

“I passed my chemistry test!” Talan announces, “Cause you studied with me that question was totally on there like you said. Wait, why aren’t you eating?”

“I ate.” Oliver lies, just wanting to get out. He thinks that he can call one of his dads and convince them that he’s not feeling well. 

“Like warp speed?” Talan says puzzled, “You were four people ahead of me in line. Where’s your food.” 

“Not hungry.”

“What’s wrong? Why aren’t you sitting over there?” Talan glances back to the table Oliver usually sits at. 

“They don’t wanna sit with me.” Oliver says through gritted teeth, he blinks back white-hot tears, “I’m not going to Cancun.” 

“What?” Talan looks pass Oliver at the table full of Oliver’s friends, “That sucks. Come sit with me.” 

Before Oliver can protest Talan is dragging him by the sleeve of his uniform jacket over to the crowded basketball team table. Talan sets his tray down next to his best friend Henry and reaches back to drag another chair.

“There. Sit.” Talan points from Oliver to the chair. He reaches into his backpack and pulls out a lunch bag and slides his tray over to Oliver. 

“Thought just the team sat here?” A brown hair kid Oliver knows his dads have driven back from practice says. He’s sitting two people down from Talan. 

“You got a problem with it you can leave.” Talan answers before anyone. “He’s my brother who cares if he sits here.” 

Talan stares at the kid expectantly before rolling his eyes and opening his lunch bag. He pulls out a sandwich and some shrink-wrapped cookies. He has a container of apple juice and carrot sticks. He starts with the cookies. 

“Dude.” He tells Oliver with his mouth full, “Eat.”

“Why do you have two lunches?” Oliver asks puzzled, “Dad doesn’t make me a lunch.”

“Cause sometimes.” Talan swallows, “They like… Put the food on the plate and it touches and I can’t eat it. So I get a lunch.” 

“Ok but… Then if you have a lunch why go get the hot lunch?” 

“Cause they don’t always mess it up, I tell them to like be careful and sometimes they listen. But like look.” Talan points to the tray where the chicken touches the salad, “That’s not… I can’t eat that.” He shudders. 

“You’re weird.” Oliver shakes his head but starts eating.

Oliver can pretend to be a part of the basketball team for lunch but after lunch he’s back to being shunned by his friends. He sits alone during History and Art and forgets he has detention until the teacher in charge waves him into the classroom as he’s leaving school. 

“I just gotta tell my brother I have to stay.” Oliver begs, “I’m giving him a ride.” 

“You should have thought about that before you were late.” The teacher raises an eyebrow at him, “You owe us half an hour.” 

*

Oliver walks out of school with his head hung low. He wants to go home and go to bed. He’s lost the time he uses to do his homework and he has forty-five minutes left before afternoon practice. Barely enough time to drive home and get himself back to the pool. 

Talan waits for him in the grass by the parking lot, spinning a basketball on his finger, his math book opened in front of him. 

“I’m sorry Baby.” Oliver shakes his head, “I had detention they wouldn’t let me-” 

“It’s okay.” Talan throws him his basketball, “Still better than leaving with dad.” 

Oliver nods and unlocks his car. He throws his backpack in the backseat before sitting down to rest his head on the steering wheel while Talan gets into the passenger seat. 

“You okay dude?” Talan asks concerned. He shuts his door and waits for Oliver to move or turn the car on. 

Oliver looses more of his composure with each passing minute. Talan sits quietly next to him before he throws an arm over his brother’s shoulders. 

“Dude.” Talan tries, “If they wanna be jerks to you cause you can’t go then like that’s not cool…”

“You don’t get it.” Oliver wipes his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket.

“I get having no friends.” Tal reminds him, “I get that. Like you can sit with me.” 

“I don’t wanna sit with you.” Oliver says too harshly, “I want my friends and I wanna go to Cancun.” 

“I’m just sayin’” Talan keeps his arm around Oliver, “D’you want me to call dad to pick us up?” 

Oliver doesn’t know why he nods but he does. He can’t figure out how to fix his day or how to magically come up with the energy to go to practice. He doesn’t want to be in charge anymore. 

“Ok.” Talan nods and digs out his phone, “I got it.” 

“Don’t call Dad.” Oliver calls out, “Call Dad.” 

“So Dad?” Talan looks confused. 

“Forget it.” Oliver groans, “Get in.”

Oliver ignores the fact that Talan puts his feet up on the dash and he ignores the two red lights he blazes through. He sees Talan look around anxiously when someone honks at them angrily.

“Sorry.” He mumbles. 

“Getting home alive would be awesome.” Talan’s eyes are wide, “Just saying.” 

They get home just as afternoon practice starts. Oliver is too tired to care. He drops his backpack in the middle of the hallway, kicks off his shoes and walks up to his bedroom. He closes his door and falls asleep leaning against Bert’s side. 

He wakes up when he feels the weight of his mattress shift. He opens his eyes to see his dad sitting beside him. 

“You missed practice.” Michael says. “They called me asking where you were.” 

“I know.” Oliver says, “I don’t care.” 

“You cared yesterday.” Michael points out, “And this morning.” 

“I don’t care anymore.” Oliver snaps. 

“What happened between this morning and now?” Michael asks. 

Oliver doesn’t answer. He buries his head further into his pillow and tries to will Michael away. 

“Want your dad?” Michael offers because maybe Oliver will talk to Ryan if he won’t talk to him. 

“No.” Oliver says frustrated, “I don’t want anyone. I want to sleep.” 

“You can’t just miss practice.” Michael says and he feels like an hypocrite, “Did something happen at school.” 

Oliver says nothing. 

“Tal said your friends wouldn’t let you sit with-” 

“Stop.” Oliver begs, “ I don’t wanna talk about it.” 

“Bud if you want to go to Cancun you can go.” Michael tells him, “If you don’t want to-” 

“Stop.” Oliver repeats. 

“You knew going into this there’d be sacrifice-” 

“Stop.” Oliver snaps. 

“We can fix it.” Michael offers. He hates watching Oliver hurt, “You can keep doing school like you were doing in Baltimore.”

Michael won’t admit it but he’d spent the last ten minutes making a list of ways to help Oliver out. 

“I don’t want you to fix it.” Oliver lifts his head off his pillow, “I want to be mad. This sucks. I want to like… Just let me be-” 

“I can’t Ols. Your dad and I can’t.” 

Oliver shakes his head and pulls at his blankets. 

“Is it a girl?” Michael tries Ryan’s first guess. 

“God.” Oliver groans and he hates that he can’t exactly tell his dad the truth, “No. It’s not. You’re worse than grandma.” 

“No.” Michael assures, “I lived with grandma, I’m not worse than her.” 

“Just leave me alone.” Oliver begs, “Like you don’t understand.” 

Michael plays the random objects on Oliver’s bedside table. He picks up a miniature replica of the Eiffel tower and flips it around between his fingers. 

“I think.” He says carefully, “That your dad and I… We might be the only ones who do understand.”

Michael doesn’t try to say anything else. He sits quietly beside Oliver for a while rubbing circles on his back, like he’d done when Oliver was little and sick or scared. 

“It just sucks.” Oliver says after awhile, “Having to choose.” 

“It does.” Michael agrees, “I remember.”


	5. Talan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can follow my [ fanfic tumblr](http://lillsfanfic.tumblr.com/), I sporadically post sneak peeks, hand written plots and answer questions.

**Daytona Beach, Two years to Rotterdam**

Michael picks up Talan from school everyday. He waits in the semi circle driveway with all the other parents in carpool gridlock traffic trying to spot his kid amongst the identically dressed students. 

Talan’s backpack is neon yellow, a leftover tradition of Ryan’s to make sure their kids could always be spotted in a crowd. Talan’s shoes, the only part of the uniform not dictated by the dress code, change everyday supplemented by one too many trips to sneaker stores, which even Michael is guilty of indulging in. Despite all of this though, Michael spots his kid because of the basketball in his hands and the purple Raven’s snapback on his head. 

“How’s your day Pal?” Michael asks as soon as Talan opens the door, “We gotta go pick up some-” 

Michael stops halfway through his sentence when he notices that Talan is crumpled down in the seat. Bent in half, his fingers are interlaced behind his head. 

“Talan.” Michael has no choice but to drive forward because of the cars behind him. He glances towards the passenger seat as he drives, “Talk to me what’s wrong?”

“I can’t breathe.” Talan manages to say. “I’m gonna puke.”

Talan’s breaths are quick and shallow and Michael can see that the neck of his uniform shirt is soaked in sweat. He turns out into the street from the school and is too busy to wave at the security guard standing there. There’s nowhere to pull over right away and so Michael drives on helpless until he sees a strip mall. 

“Tal.” Without signaling, Michael takes a left turn into the parking lot of a restaurant. 

Michael stops the car and turns to Tal without bothering to take the keys out of the ignition. He pulls at Talan’s uniform tie and undoes the first two buttons of his collar. He undoes his son’s seat belt before flipping on the air conditioning full blast and aiming the air vents at him. 

“Talan.” Michael tries to not sound scared. He reaches out to touch Tal but Tal jerks away. 

“Don’t.” Talan cries out, “Don’t.”

“Okay.” Michael moves back to lean against his door. “You’re good Tal. What’s going on?”

“I’m scared. I dunno.” Talan’s hands shake. He pushes his hat off his head and brings his knees up against his chest. “It feels bad.” 

“Breathe.” Michael tries to help, “Talan come on, stop it. Relax.” 

“I need to like-” Talan goes to open his door but the child lock keeps him in, “Fuck. Open.” He cries out frustrated.

“Hang on baby, it’s hot out… Stay-” Michael unlocks the door and watches Tal walk out. 

Tal paces next to the car, clenching and unclenching his fist. The basketball that had been at his feet bounces out the door and rolls away to rest under the cars parked a few spaces away. 

“Talan.” Somehow saying his name makes Michael feel like maybe he can calm him down. “Get back in the car. You’re not even looking where you’re…” Michael watches a car turn a blind corner and pass a few feet from Talan. “Talan!” 

“Stop yelling.” Talan stops walking and reaches to rub his hand over his chest right above his heart. 

“Does your chest hurt?” Michael says more alarmed, he walks back to stand in front of his kid. “Talan. Does your chest hurt?” 

Talan nods. 

“Get in the car.” Michael disregards Talan’s earlier request to not be touched, grabs his elbow and pushes him back in the car before closing his door and walking back around to the driver’s side. 

“Is it beating fast?” Michael reaches and pulls Tal’s seat belt back over him. He starts the car again, “Keep talking to me.” 

“Feels like I’m gonna die.” Tal gasps again.

Michael drives faster than he should. He fumbles with the control on the panel of his car trying to get it to dial Ryan’s cellphone. 

“Hey, what’s up?” Ryan answers all easy, “I found some taco shells you guys don’t need to pick-” 

“Meet us at the ER.” Michael says, “Right now.” 

“Yo what?” Ryan’s tone instantly changes, “What happened.” 

“Tal’s-” Michael stops short because he’s not exactly sure, “He can’t breathe, he’s having chest pains. I’m bringing him to the ER.” 

“Ok yeah.” Ryan answers, “I’m driving over if he has chest pains they’ll like take him right away. It’ll be okay.” 

Michael drives as fast as he can but rush hour traffic traps them before they can get anywhere close to the children’s hospital. Michael shoots sideways glances at Talan who’s still struggling to breathe. Five minutes later, when they’ve moved forward just a few meters, Michael considers driving on the shoulder. He looks over at Tal again and Tal’s sitting upright and while his hands still shake his breathing is more normal. 

“Are you okay?” Michael asks. He risks touching Tal again and brushes hair off his forehead. 

Tal doesn’t move away from the touch, instead he nods against Michael’s hand. 

“We don’t hafta go.” Talan says and he just sounds tired, “My heart’s okay. I just. I wanna go home.” 

“Are you sure?” Michael squeezes his shoulder, “What happened?” 

“I dunno.” Tal answers. He learns forward against the cold air spewing out of the vents, “I got really hot and then I was… It felt like I just ran an I was scared of just I don’t know.” He rests his head against the dash. “It was bad.” 

“What happened before that?” Michael asks, “At school? What happened before you got in the car?” 

Talan’s quiet. 

Michael switches lanes to start heading back home instead of the hospital. He watches Talan shake out his hands a few times before he reaches over and squeezes one of them. Talan’s hands are freezing cold. 

“They’re like numb.” Talan explains. “Call dad.” 

The car listens to Tal’s request, dialing for Ryan on the first try. 

“Are you guys there?” Ryan answers flustered, “I’m on my way what did they say?” 

“We’re going home Dad.” Talan answers, “I’m okay. I’m sorry.” 

“What? Mike?” 

“It stopped.” Michael explains, “Whatever happened it stopped. Should I still bring him in?”

“No.” Talan answers. 

“If he’s good…” Ryan says skeptically, “Probably not I mean… Get him home we can talk about it.” 

“I’m sorry.” Talan repeats. 

“It’s okay.” Ryan reassures, “I wasn’t doin’ nothing… You feel okay?” 

Talan shrugs instead of answering. 

They’re home ten minutes later and Ryan is home five minutes after them. Talan sits up at the kitchen counter with homework spread out in front of him while Ryan keeps cooking dinner. 

“That’s a ton of homework.” Ryan notes, “How’s that possible.” 

“Work I didn’t finish.” Talan explains, “Stuff I don’t like get.” 

“What are you starting with?” Ryan asks. 

“I dunno.” Talan says discouraged, “I can’t think.” 

“Do you want a veggie burger cut up for your tacos?” Ryan tries an easier question. 

“No.” Talan grimaces, “I’m not hungry.” 

“You gotta eat.”

“I can eat the cheese.” Talan offers, “An the taco shells and the veggies but not the tomatoes.” 

Ryan pulls a veggie burger out of the freezer anyways. He zaps it in the microwave for a few seconds before putting it into a clean pan and cutting it up with a new spatula. 

“Do you want taco stuff on it?” Ryan holds up the spice envelope, “Or do you want it plain?” 

“Plain.” Talan says like it was the obvious choice. 

“I was just making sure.” 

Oliver comes home from practice before the veggie burger is done. He grabs a taco shell from the table and starts eating it while sitting up on the counter. 

“Dude.” He talks to Talan while he chews, “I saw you crying at school. What the fuck’s wrong with you?” 

“Dude.” Ryan mocks his tone, “Language. Butt off the counter.” 

“Shut up.” Talan jumps off his stool and walks out of the kitchen. 

“What’s wrong with him?” Oliver asks Ryan with his mouth full. 

“He was crying at school?” Ryan asks concerned, “D’you help him?” 

“I had class!” Oliver defends himself, “He was like… Why was he crying?” 

*

Michael’s office is off the living room. It’s small and always filled with sponsor boxes that make it out of the garage but never make it all the way to the bedroom. It’s the only room in the house that hasn’t fallen victim to Ryan’s organization attempts or his interior decorating projects. 

There’s a wall filled with framed family pictures and framed drawings from the boys. Where there used to be a couch there’s now a drafting table and a mess of markers, pastels and half opened dried tubes of acrylics. It’s where Talan goes to hide. 

Michael’s on the phone when he walks in and Talan tries to be as quiet as possible. He picks up the pencil that’s still resting on the edge of the desk and continues colouring the large sheet of paper in front of him. He concentrates hard on shading until it’s easier to breathe and he feels a little less anxious. He doesn’t look up when he hears Michael hang up the phone. 

“That was your math teacher.” Michael tells Talan, even though he knows he should talk about it with Ryan first, “Wanna talk to me about your math test today?” 

“I didn’t answer anything.” Talan confesses, “I wrote my name an I had nothing...”

His breathing hitches and Michael squeezes his shoulder. 

“Just breathe Tal.” 

“I’m just dumb I don’t get it.” Talan continues. 

“You’re not dumb.” Michael reprimands, “Don’t say it.”  
“Yeah I am. I’m the dumb kid who cries in math class.”

“He says you can take it again tomorrow-” 

“Don’t matter. I’m not gonna know it by tomorrow. It’ll be the same.” 

“Oliver can help you study.” Michael offers, “He was good at-” 

“I don’t want his help!” Talan interrupts, “I don’t wanna do math. I don’t want to go to school. I’m tired. My head hurts. I want-” 

“Your head hurts?” 

“Yeah well…” Talan trails off, “No but-” 

“Talan…” Michael starts but has no idea how to finish his sentence. 

Talan’s fought them about going to school every day since kindergarten. It’s hard to have to keep coming up with ways to convince him he needs to go. It’s frustrating to watch a kid who has no learning disabilities and a higher than average IQ struggle so hard. 

“I’m not good at it okay.” Talan swivels his chair back around to start drawing again. “I’ll fail that math test again tomorrow. It’s whatever.” 

Michael’s out of speeches and Ryan doesn’t do any better. They both listen to Oliver talk through dinner and watch Tal pick at his food. 

Talan’s homework goes untouched because neither of them have the energy to fight with him over it. Talan spends the evening outside and the consistent dribbling sound coming from their backyard is their cue that he’s still doing okay. 

“Maybe if you go shoot with him he’ll talk.” Michael offers Ryan as they watch video of Oliver kicking off the wall trying to pinpoint why he’s not as fast as he could be. 

“Just let him like be alone.” Ryan says. He pauses the video and backs it up a few seconds, “His arm’s not like…” He points to the screen. 

“That won’t make a difference. He did that before.” Michael runs a hand over his face, more tired than he should be before ten at night, “I can’t worry about this.” He admits, “When that’s going on.” He gestures towards outside. 

“Maybe it’s not the right school.” Ryan suggest, “Maybe he needs one that’s like… Slower.” 

“He’s not slow.” Michael reminds him, “He’s fucking smart he just won’t.” 

“Because he doesn’t care. It’s not fun for him.” 

“He has to do it. It’s not a choice. He can’t not go to school.” 

They’ve talked about this a hundred times over the years, they’ve fought about it and discussed it with teachers and principals and whoever they thought would help and still had no solution. It’s a problem they’ve never had with Oliver. 

The video starts to play again and they watch Oliver swim a full lap without bothering to analyze any of his movements. 

“I got nothing.” Ryan sounds defeated, “Like I don’t know what to do about it.” 

“We gotta have something fuck.” Michael watches Oliver kick off the wall again and swim another lap, “Fuck he’s fast.” 

*

They let Talan stay home from school the next day and the day after that against their better judgment. On his own at home, Talan slowly trudges through his mountain of homework and by Monday seems to be doing better.

His freak-outs don’t stop though and after some googling Michael learns that Talan’s probably having panic attacks. 

They take Talan to his pediatrician after three panic attacks in one week seem like too much of a big deal to ignore. Once all the physical causes are ruled out they leave with a referral for a psychologist and a prescription for Ativan to be taken as needed. Having the medication is a relief, a concrete way to help Talan. 

Talan has two psychologist appointments per week, which they aren’t allowed to sit in on. They meet the doctor before Talan’s first visit, and he tells them that he will warn them if Talan ever talks about hurting himself or if he mentions suicide. 

They drive back home in silence after the meeting and the whole thing suddenly seems scarier. In the following days, they both catch each other standing in the doorframe of Tal’s bedroom watching him sleep. 

After three weeks of appointments, Tal has breathing exercises and a note he can hand his teachers if he needs to step away. He has a laminated card in his velcro Vikings wallet that reminds him of all the coping strategies he’s learned. What no one is able to tell them is why their goofy thirteen-year-old kid is anxious in the first place. 

Talan is better. He gets more time to write tests and a math tutor. He makes the basketball team and starts begrudgingly swimming on weekends to work up his endurance. 

Ryan drops Talan off at school a few months later. Talan is riddled with more bags than he usually has because of basketball practice. 

“Your dad will pick you up after practice.” Ryan reminds him, “You got lunch?” 

“Yeah. Somewhere.” Talan holds up his backpack, “Thanks.” 

“Watch your layups.” Ryan says. The parent parked behind him honks angrily. “See you tonight. Love you dork.” 

Talan rolls his eyes but he smiles and waves as he heads into the school and Ryan stays parked until he sees him walk into the building. 

After he drops Talan off, Ryan has nowhere to be. He stops for coffee before driving to the Speed Club. 

Half an hour later, he’s sitting in Devon’s office, looking over Oliver’s time sheets when his cell phone rings. 

“Mr. Phelps-Lochte?” The school secretary says, “Talan is absent today?”

“No.” Ryan answers, “I dropped him off he’s at school.” 

“No…” She responds, “His homeroom teacher just finished attendance and he isn’t in class.”

“No.” Ryan insists, “He’s at school. I dropped him off this morning. Can you double check? Last time they ticked off the wrong box.” 

“If you’ll stay on the line.” The secretary says. She puts Ryan on hold before he has time to reply. 

There’s no hold music, just a loop of important dates and events to remember. Ryan hears about the deadline for SAT prep sign up courses three times before the line picks back up. 

“Mr. Phelps-Lochte?” She says, “I just asked Talan’s homeroom teacher to confirm her attendance and he is not in class. Are you sure no one picked him up or-” 

“Yeah I’m sure.” Ryan’s heart starts to beat faster, “Did you page? Maybe he’s in the bathroom or in the gym.” 

“We’ll page him if you want to stay on the-” 

“No.” Ryan knows he has no time to waste, “Call me if he is at school. I’m going to go-” He’s about to hang out when he has a an idea, “Is my other son there? Oliver Phelps-Lochte.” 

“If you give me a second.” She answers, “Yes. Oliver is in class would you like me to page him?” 

“No.” Ryan’s heart sinks. Oliver taking Talan out of school had been the only scenario that made sense. “Just Talan.” 

Ryan hangs up and takes a deep breath before calling Michael. 

“Hey.” Ryan says, “Is Tal with you?” 

“No?” Michael answers, “You dropped him off at school.” 

“I know.” Ryan’s voice is definitely no longer calm, “But school called and he’s not there.” 

“So where is he?” Michael asks, now equally panicked.

“I don’t know.” Ryan says, “I just found out.” 

“I’m home. He’s not home.” 

“He wouldn’t get home.” Ryan rationalizes, “He’s got no car.” 

Michael racks his brain trying to think of reasons to rationalize where Talan is but all he comes up with is terror. 

“I’m gonna drive around the school.” Ryan says, “They’re suppose to call me back if he was just in the bathroom or somewhere not his class.” 

“Should we call the cops?” Michael asks even though his mind is pretty much made up. He closes his eyes and sees Talan getting lured into a car or Tal getting dragged somewhere. 

“No.” Ryan decides, “I’ve been him. He’s being a punk.” 

Ryan did most of his growing up in Daytona Beach. He didn’t go to the private school both boys attend but he’s not a stranger to the choice hangouts for kids skipping class. 

He knows Talan doesn’t drive and he knows Talan is for the most part incredibly lazy. Once he hangs up the phone, he limits his search to three blocks around the school, heading for the first public beach a few streets away. 

It’s a cloudy Wednesday in October and so the beach is mostly empty. Ryan parks a few spots away from the sand covered stairs, locks the car and tries calling Talan’s phone. 

His call is sent to voicemail after just one ring. 

Ryan walks down the beach in one direction for five minutes before doubling back and walking in the other. 

Talan is easy to spot because not many white blonde gangly teenagers sit at the beach in dress pants and lime green Jordans. 

Ryan calls Michael before he approaches Talan. 

“I got him.” He says, “Call off the cops.” 

“Bring him home.” Michael requests, “Not back to school.” 

“He should go back to school.” Ryan argues, “He skips so we let him come home?” 

“Just bring him home.” Michael repeats, “I need to see his face.” 

“Fine.” Ryan agrees because he wants to get to Talan, “But I’m not okay with it.” 

Talan is sitting on his uniform jacket. His cell phone is a foot away from him face down in the sand and his eyes are closed. 

Ryan sits down beside him and waits until Talan looks at him. It takes a minute before Talan opens his eyes, glances sideways for a second and stares back at the ocean. Ryan watches it with him; flat waves rolling across the water to swell up and crash only a meter or so away from shore. 

“Surf’s flat.” Ryan notes, not knowing what else to say. He’d expected Talan to be doing something fun, to be with friends messing around, to be drinking beer or to be doing anything other than sitting alone and upset on the beach. 

“Your Dad called the cops.” Ryan says before he reaches forward and brushes sand off Talan’s limited edition Jordans. 

“Really?” Tal clears his throat before he talks. “I have a spare.” 

“Talan.” Ryan’s exasperated, “You’re already in trouble don’t lie.” 

“I don’t know.” Talan sighs. 

“Well you do.” Ryan challenges, “I dropped you off and you didn’t go-” 

Talan stops talking. He digs the toes of his shoes back in the sand and wraps his arms around his knees. Ryan notes that the sleeves of the hoodie they’d bought him three months before are an inch too short for his arms. 

“When we don’t know where you are we worry.” 

“I know.” 

“Then why.” Ryan has to bite back his anger, “Are you here and not in class?” 

“I don’t know.” Talan repeats, his voice as flat as ocean. 

“We love you.” Ryan tries to change is approach.

“Awesome.” 

“No.” Ryan snaps and the look on Talan’s face makes him wish he hadn’t. “What’s going on?” 

Talan sets his jaw and Ryan can tell he’s fighting back tears. He feels defeated. He’s tired of watching Talan cry and not being able to do anything to help him out. 

“Why you crying?” Ryan asks, “You can tell me-” 

Instead of answering Talan gets up, walks ten feet away from Ryan and sits back down again. 

“No dude.” Ryan is right on Talan’s tail. He crouches down in front of him in the sand, “You don’t walk away from me.” 

“I’m not crying.” Talan says.

“Okay.” Ryan agrees. “You’re not.” 

Ryan drops sideways to sit back beside Talan. Talan stays quiet but drops his head to rest against Ryan’s shoulder and Ryan can’t even stay mad. 

“Why didn’t you go to class?” Ryan asks for a second time, his tone kinder. 

“Because.” Talan takes a deep breath, “I forgot my homework.” 

“Baby.” Ryan sighs. 

“I forgot.” Talan chokes out, “I dunno I just- and if I go an I don’t have it it’s like… I didn’t wanna freak out.” 

“Then you say you have to leave class.” Ryan reminds him, “You have a plan.” 

“It feels like I’m dying okay.” Tal kicks against the sand, “I look like a freak I don’t wanna have it happen at school.” 

“That’s still not… It’s not an excuse Tal.” 

“Yes it is.” Talan argues. 

“No.” Ryan is firm. 

It’s not what Talan wants to hear and so Talan stops talking. It’s a silent drive home and when they get home Talan stands in the kitchen and holds out his hand for Ativan. 

“No.” Ryan shakes his head, “You don’t need it.” 

“You don’t know.” Talan continues arguing, “You have no idea.” 

“Talan.” Ryan wishes he’d taken him back to school, “It’s for when you have a panic attack. Go to your room. Do your homework.”

“I want-” 

“Yeah well it’s not happening.” Ryan retorts, “Go to your room.” 

They argue in the kitchen for thirty more seconds before Michael walks in. 

“You’re grounded Talan.” Michael says, “I thought you’d were-” 

“This isn’t fair!” Talan cries out, “You suck. I was-” 

“Your room!” Michael points at the stairs, “Now.” 

Talan looks at both of them in turn before turning on his heels and stomping away. The glass doors of the kitchen cabinets clatter as he makes his way up the stairs. His door slams shut. 

“Let’s give him like…” Michael looks up at the ceiling because they can still hear Talan stomping around his bedroom, “Five minutes?” 

“I’m not going to talk to him.” Ryan states, “I’m done.” 

“He can’t keep missing school.” Michael opens the fridge and grabs two beers. 

“I was going to bring him back.” Ryan reminds him, “dude it’s ten am.” He says when Michael offers him a bottle. 

“People who made up that rule never had teenagers. Cheers.” 

 

**Rotterdam, Day 8**

Talan misses the race. 

Truth be told, Michael and Ryan are too busy focusing on Oliver to be worried. Talan had given them a hard time about coming to watch that day and he wasn’t in a good mood to start. They could tell the entire experience was starting to get old for him. They’d missed the basketball game the night before and both Michael and Ryan had been busy returning calls during breakfast. 

When the race is over, they realize Talan still isn’t back and they start to worry. By that time though they know for a fact Oliver is injured and they need to start getting down to the press conference. 

They’re leaving their seats when security brings Talan back. 

“Stop touching him.” Michael requests once he sees Talan’s having a panic attack, “It makes it worse. Give him some space.” 

“He can’t stay.” Ryan quickly realizes. He knows the last minute plans and the crowd hovering around them isn’t helping Talan at all. He knows Talan needs to be somewhere quiet as soon as possible. 

“He needs his medication and he can’t… There’s going to be press everywhere. Ols can’t worry about this too.” 

“I’ll go back with him.” Charlie, Devon’s wife, offers, “We’re all going back but I’ll go in the car if you want him to go ahead.”

“Yeah.” Michael agrees, “Please. There’s a blue bottle by the sink in our bathroom. It’s the only one. Give him two of the white pills.”

“You don’t have them with you?” Charlie asks alarmed, one of her hands hanging onto Talan’s arm. 

“No. He hasn’t needed.” Michael starts to explain himself before realizing he doesn’t have to. “He needs two and they usually take five minutes to work.” 

“We’ll be back in an hour.” Ryan estimates to Devon, “Two tops.”

 

“Stay with him.” Michael tells the security guards who’d come to escort Ryan and him down to the press conference. “Don’t touch him.” 

*

It’s five minutes from the pool to the hotel. Charlie rides in the first van with Talan, she lets him sit by the window by himself. 

“Talan.” She says in her very best nurse voice, “Breathe.” 

“I can’t.” 

“If you’re talking you can breathe.” She hates being this hard on them, “Breathe all the way in. Hold it and breathe out.” 

She hears him try but it doesn’t seem to help him. 

“It’s okay.” She comforts, her voice back to normal, “We’re almost there.” 

Charlie doesn’t feel comfortable leaving Talan alone in their room so she brings him with her to go get his meds. She grabs the pills and what looks like a clean water glass from Michael and Ryan’s bathroom before walking back to the couch where she’d left Talan.

“Here.” She hands Talan two pills in the cap of the bottle, “I’ll get you water.” 

Charlie watches Talan take the pills before leading him back to the elevator and to the room Brady sleeps in. 

“Do you want me to stay with you?” She offers. 

“No.” Talan answers, “I wanna be like… alone.” 

“Okay.” She sounds skeptical, “I’m right next door, and the room connects.”

* 

Charlie waits for Devon, the pill bottle sitting on the desk in front of her. He walks in fifteen minutes later. 

“Is he okay?” He asks, “Brady went to check on him. I told Rylan he could stay and watch the aquarium in the lobby.”  
“His dose is ridiculous.” Charlie says ignoring his question. She shakes the bottle at him. “HE gets two… That’s…” 

“Well if it’s what the bottle says.”

“Devon. You wouldn’t need this much Ativan.” She sounds outraged, “I didn’t read I just thought they would-”

“What’ll do to him?” Devon says alarmed because accidentally killing one of Ryan’s kids definitely isn’t in the plan.

“Knock him out.” She purses her lips; “There are refills on this.” 

“They wouldn’t hurt him.” Devon reminds his wife, “Ry wouldn’t-”

“I’m not saying it’s hurting him.” She backtracks, “I’m just saying he doesn’t need this much. They don’t need to drug him this much. It’s not fair.” 

“Is he okay though?” Devon asks again, “I thought Ry would be blowing up my phone… I’m just going to tell him.” 

“He’s okay.” Charlie said, “I checked on him, he’s almost asleep.” 

*

Talan sits up when he hears the door to the room open.

“It’s just me dude.” Brady says, “It’s okay I don’t care.”

“I’m sorry dude.” Talan tells Brady, “This sucks.” 

“Mom told me to tell you to breathe.” Brady says. He sits down cross-legged beside Tal on the bed, “So like breathe dude.” 

Brady doesn’t know how to help but he hates watching Talan struggle. He can’t imagine being sick and not having his dad or his mom do everything in their power to be with him. 

“Why didn’t your dad come with you?” Brady asks, defying his mom’s orders to let Tal just sleep. 

“’Cause Oliver.” Talan mumbles, “S’more important.” 

“He’s not.” Brady says slightly outraged, “Dude your brother’s not the-” 

“It’s whatever like-” Talan turns on his side to face Brady, “It’s okay.” 

“That’s not fair.” Brady 

“They hate when this happens.” Talan admits, “Like it’s not suppose to I should have it together but like I don’t.” He squeezes his eyes shut and tears still pour out. 

“Breathe dude come on.” Brady worriedly puts one of his hand on Tal’s shoulder and pats it awkwardly, “Want me to go get mom?” 

“No.” Tal shakes his head and wipes his face with the bottom of his t-shirt. “I just need this shit to kick in. I’m okay” 

Brady doesn’t offer to leave Talan alone. He keeps his hand on Talan’s shoulder until Talan is asleep. 

Talan wakes up with his head leaning against the pillow Brady uses to prop himself up as he plays a game on his phone. 

“I was about to like push you back to your side.” Brady jokes. 

Talan laughs before he yawns and stretches out, pushing his hand against Brady’s face until Brady shoves back at him. 

“Rylan wanted to go swim.” Brady says, “So my dad and mom went with him.”

“I hate pools.” Talan answers, “I hate swimming.” 

“Yeah I know.” 

“Did my dads come back?” 

“No.” 

“I hate my family.” Talan adds.

“Dude.” 

“No like.” Talan rubs a hand over his face and sits up. He’s still groggy but the feeling is definitely a relief. “It’s not fair.” 

Brady doesn’t know what to answer. He can’t remember a time when his parents haven’t been there for him or chose to be somewhere else when he needed them. 

“Wanna watch tv?” Brady offers, “There’s weird porn sometimes.” 

“How weird?” Talan asks, propping a spare pillow behind his back. 

“Like they were in a barn or some shit.” Brady laughs flicking through channels, it was kinda blurry though so I don’t know we probably wont find-”

He’s interrupted by Talan’s cellphone. 

“It’s my dad.” Talan closes his eyes and lets the phone ring a few times before answering. “Hey.” 

“Hey.” Ryan replies back relieved, “You’re okay.” 

“Yeah.” Talan doesn’t provide any more details, “I’m tired.” 

“We’re still with Ols.” Ryan explains, “But we’re headin’ back… Ols might come with us.” 

“I want pizza.” Talan request, “Can you guys come back?” 

“We’ll come back to eat with you.” Ryan promises, “Are you gonna stay there?” 

“No.” Talan says, “If you’re gonna be back I’ll go to my room.” 

“Okay. We’ll be there soon.” Ryan reassures, “Go back to sleep okay, feel better.” 

“I’m not sick.” Talan tries to argue back because the thought of it is insulting but Ryan’s already hung up.

“I wish I was in your family.” Talan breathes when he drops his phone back on the bed. He doubts Brady ever has to be afraid of having to eat dinner alone. 

“I wish I was in your family sometimes.” Brady counters, “Private jets to Mexico like…” 

“Yeah an when we’re there they like… No one wants to surf and Ols’ on taper and doesn’t do anything and my dads are on the phone or they fight. Dude they fight a lot.” Talan breathes out, telling Brady things he’s been holding onto for months.

“You went to Hawaii.” Brady reminds him, “Cause my dad went with Oliver.” 

“Yeah, one weekend.” Tal rolls his eyes, “’Cause they felt bad.” 

“Still…” Brady doesn’t want to start a fight but he’s never heard Talan say things like this and it scares him. 

“They’re not worried.” Talan says quietly, “They haven’t like… Ols has my grandpa and fifty million from the Olympics looking after him an I got them and they’re with Ols. They probably won’t even be here to eat with me.” 

“You can eat with us.” Brady offers, “We found pizza. Like good pizza.” 

Tal fishes around the bed for his glasses, he finds them tangled up in the blanket next to his knee and pulls them on his face. It takes a bit longer than it should for his eyes to come into focus. 

“I’m gonna go back to my room. Wait for my dads.” Talan decides. No matter how angry he is with them all Talan really wants is for at least one of his parents to be there with him. 

“Mom said you should stay here.” 

“I feel okay.” Talan promises. He doesn’t feel okay as much as he doesn’t feel anything at all. It’s hard to stay mad when all he really wants to do is go back to sleep. “Tell her my dad called to say they were heading back.”

*

Once he’s back in their suite Talan tries to wait up. He sits in front of the tv and watches the day’s highlights until he’s too drowsy to keep his eyes open. He crawls into his bed fully dressed with the tv still blaring because it’s better than the still quiet of the empty suite. 

Talan wakes up to yelling. He’s disoriented. It takes him a second to remember where he is and another second to realize that he’s no longer alone. His relief over his dads being back is short lived once he hears the yelling that had awakened him in the first place. 

“He has one race left Ryan. What do you want us to do? Just switch coaches? You want your job back?” Michael mocks. 

“I made sure he was okay.” Ryan yells back, “He was our kid before he was a swimmer now you don’t fucking care. As long as he’s winning gold it doesn’t matter what-” 

“Don’t be dumb Ryan. Like try to think.”

“Yeah don’t be an asshole. Stop yelling, Tal’s here.” 

Talan is used to having Oliver around. Oliver always comes to find him when they can hear their dads fight. Talan’s used to having Oliver tell him that it’s okay, that it doesn’t matter and that neither of their dads would leave. 

Talan’s phone is next to his pillow; he dials for his uncle before he sits up. 

“Hi.” Talan says, “It’s Tal.”

“Hey what’s up?” Devon answers, “Who’s yelling?”

“My dads.” Talan admits, “Can I-” 

“Come down.” Devon doesn’t hesitate, “Right now.” 

Tal walks out of his bedroom and across the suite without either of his dads noticing. He leaves his phone on the coffee table and picks up his Jordans by the door. He closes the door and waits a second, listening for someone calling him back, before he heads towards the elevator. 

Charlie waits for him just outside the elevator. She puts her arm around his waist and hugs him to her as he walks. 

“I’m okay.” He squirms out of her grip because he doesn’t want to be fussed over.

His aunt stops just before they walk into the room and holds up the prescription bottle. 

“How often do you take these?” Charlie asks.

“I dunno.” Tal picks at dried toothpaste on the hem of his shirt, “Like when I have panic attacks and I can’t deal with… Like when what I’m suppose to do doesn’t work. My dads give ‘em to me I don’t like just take them.” 

“What are you suppose to do?” 

“Breathe.” Talan recites, he leans against the wall. “Relax my muscles. Walk. Focus on something.” He reaches into his back pocket, pulls out his wallet, fishes out the laminated card and hands it to her, “Then if that stuff doesn’t work I get meds.” 

“Did you do any of that today?” She asks flipping the card over. “I didn’t know you had that.” 

“No. My dad just said to take the pills cause like... I don’t know.” Talan takes the card and puts it back in his wallet. “I’m okay now.” 

“When’s the last time you went to therapy?” Charlie asks, knowing how long Tal’s been travelling with his family, “Is there someone here you talk to?” 

“No.” Tal answers unbothered, “I had basketball one night so I didn’t go and then it just like… We were with Oliver so I just stopped…. Like a few months? I dunno. I’ve been okay.” 

“You feel okay now Bub?” Charlie rubs the side of his face, “I didn’t know you knew what to do. I wouldn’t have given you that much medication.”

Before she had Brady, Charlie had had Talan. She remembers vividly when Devon and her had volunteered to babysit Talan for a few hours as practice. How Talan had suffered through their inexperienced diaper changes and let himself be rocked to sleep propped up against her stomach. 

Talan had called her mama two months before Brady had started talking. 

“I’m okay Mama.” Talan whispers. 

“Groggy?” 

Talan nods against her hand. 

“We’re going to get dinner.” She tells him, “Want to call your dads and tell them you’re with us?” 

“No.” Tal’s answer is quick, “I just want food.” 

“Go get Brady and Ry.” Charlie requests, handing him her key card. “We can walk around afterwards. No skateboards.” She warns. 

Since he’s been in Rotterdam, Talan hasn’t left the hotel without a security guard or a volunteer escort. His dads and him are on a super carefully planned schedule and every second of their day seems to have to be planned. Wherever they go there are people taking pictures and while Tal’s used to a random pap following them around every once in awhile he’s not used to the dozens of people who swarm around his family while they wait to watch basketball or walk up and down the hotel’s street. 

Walking with Brady’s family is different though. They head out the main doors without anyone noticing and without anyone following them. Brady, Rylan and Talan walk along fountain edges and jump off joking about half ass parkour. They eat pizza in a tiny restaurant a few blocks down and Talan and Brady try to argue for the right to drink beer. 

After dinner, Devon and Charlie take ten year old Rylan back to the hotel and tell Brady and Talan that they can stay out for another hour. It’s more freedom than Talan’s had in weeks. Brady and him walk the streets. They catch the end of a basketball game on the screen of a bar television and talk about trying to order beers. 

Talan tries hard to hide his yawns but once their hour is up he’s fighting to stay awake as they make their way back to the hotel. 

“You gonna be okay making it up?” Brady jokes as Talan closes his eyes and rests his head against the elevator wall. 

“Hmmh” Talan nods. 

“We should get our skateboards tomorrow.” Brady enthuses, wide awake because it’s not even nine, “There’s no races tomorrow right?” 

“That be awesome.” Talan smiles, “Yeah.” 

“You sure you’re not coming with me?” Brady asks once the elevator stops on his floor, “I don’t care you can-” 

“No.” Talan shakes his head, “I gotta go back.”

“Alright dude.” Brady hugs him, “See you tomorrow.” 

He squeezes out of the elevator as the doors start to shut and Tal fights to stay awake for three more flights. 

Tal walks out of the elevator and he can definitely feel the Ativan still working. He yawns as he pulls out his wallet and digs through it for his key card. 

Michael opens the door while Talan is still flicking through his wallet. 

“I was out with-” He explains, regretting his choice to leave without telling them.

“We know.” Michael pulls him into the room, “Your aunt told us. We were here when you left Tal. Why d’you leave without telling us?” 

“You were fighting.” Talan points out, “Didn’t think you cared.” 

“Talan.” Michael sighs, “You know we care.” 

“Not as much as you care about Oliver.” Talan pulls his arm free. 

“That’s not true Talan.” Michael argues, “We had to be with Oliver, we couldn’t be in two places-” 

“You didn’t come back.” Tal can’t bring himself to feel upset over it, “I was waiting for you.” 

Michael wishes Ryan hadn’t gone down to the hotel bar to get a drink because Ryan is better at Talan than he is. 

“We knew you were okay.” Michael knows the words mean nothing to Talan. 

“It’s whatever.” Talan shrugs, “I’m super tired. I wanna sleep.” 

Michael watches Talan walk away uselessly. He waits until he hears the water running in the bathroom to go sit on the spare bed. 

“Dad.” Talan groans when he walks back in the room without his shirt, “I just wanna sleep. It’s whatever.” 

“I’m sorry Tal.” Michael means it. He regrets not calling, he regrets pushing Tal to the side and forcing medication he probably hadn’t needed to take on him. They’d gotten an earful from Charlie an hour before. 

“Ok.” Tal says quietly. “Night.”

Talan gets under his blankets and turns his back to Michael. He’s asleep before Michael can get up to turn off the lights. 

Michael leaves Tal’s clothes on the floor and goes back to sit on the couch just outside his room. He picks up Talan’s cellphone and sees four unread messages from Oliver. He puts the phone down without reading them. 

Ryan comes back up an hour later but an hour is plenty of time for Michael to get angry again. 

“Nice.” He sneers when Ryan trips over the shoes Tal had left close to the door, “You’re drunk.” 

“I’m not.” Ryan argues, “Tal left his shoes right-” 

“You drank one drink by yourself for two hours?” 

“I’m tired of fighting.” Ryan says firmly. He stumbles again and knows his cover is blown, “I’m allowed to drink.” 

“You have two kids!” Michael points out, “One of ‘em heard us fight.”

“I told you he would!” Ryan implores, “I didn’t want to fight, you wouldn’t- You know what Mike don’t talk about our kids. You said you didn’t have time for Tal today. Why the fuck d’you send him off? Why-” 

“Shut up.” Michael snaps, “Go to bed.” 

“I wanna go see Tal.” Ryan says. 

“Not when you’re drunk.” Michael puts his hand up against Ryan’s chest, “Tal’s sleeping. Go to bed.” 

“Don’t-” Ryan pushes Michael’s hand away. 

“You’re not-” Michael puts his hand back up with more force this time. 

“Don’t push me.” Ryan shoves Michael’s hand away again. “Stop acting like your mom.” 

Michael has to stop himself from pushing Ryan for real. Their fights haven’t been physical in a long time and he knows it’s not worth it to start. 

“Go to bed.” Michael repeats, “Don’t wake up Tal.” 

“I don’t want to wake him up I want to make sure he’s good.” Ryan shakes his head. “I’m not drunk.” 

“Dude you are.” Michael says, “It’s not good.” 

“None of this is good.” Ryan points out.


	6. Day Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is late because wrapping this whole story up (there's just one chapter left) is intense. I can't even begin to tell you guys how crucial mugglemiranda is to this entire process, she should honestly get a salary for the work that she does. Maybe once this is all over I'll post how everything in this story started out. What you have to know about Proud is that I mainly wrote it to write the story that comes right after it. Proud is kind of the gateway fic for something I've been waiting a year to post. 
> 
> Thank you so much for your support, really.

**Rio, 2016**

The hotel is a mess. Michael can’t understand how he’s managed to somehow empty both his and Oliver’s suitcases and scatter their content across the room in the matter of just a week and a half. 

Oliver is sleeping on Ryan’s side of the bed, one of his fists holding tightly to his security blanket and the other resting against his face. He’s oblivious to Michael’s panic and to the state of disaster that’s about to be declared inside their room. 

Ryan packed Oliver’s suitcase before he left for training camp. He’d put all of the outfits in individually labeled bags. Each bags contained everything from socks to sunglasses to extra shirts. Even while he was deep in training Ryan had done everything in his power to make this trip easier on Michael. 

Now, most of the plastic bags are empty and in a pile next to Oliver’s suitcase. 

It is their last day in Rio and today is Ryan’s last Olympic race. They all fly back home the next afternoon with no plans to train and no media circus tour. As much as Michael is happy to be here supporting Ryan he can’t wait for it to be over. He knows Ryan is tired of it too. 

Oliver is two. Too little to really understand what’s going on and definitely too little to understand why he can see Ryan but why Ryan can’t come to see him. It hurts Michael to watch Oliver make grabby hands at television screens and in the stands during races. Michael can’t blame Oliver though because he misses Ryan too. 

It’s hard to watch Ryan swim. Michael has moments when he’s jealous that Ryan is still racing but he knows that Ryan has moments when he’s jealous that Michael is sitting with Oliver. 

Watching Ryan get silver is almost physically painful, watching him come in fourth in a relay race is even worse. Michael has tried to keep his face neutral and his yelling to a minimum not only to stop himself from scaring Oliver but also to ensure that he doesn’t make the NBC highlight reel. 

Michael’s main problem at the moment though is not Ryan’s times or the constant requests from media outlets to do interviews. His biggest problem is that he can’t find the last plastic wrapped outfit for Oliver to wear. 

He digs through the mountain of plastic bags for a while and attempts to start cleaning. If they’re leaving tomorrow he needs to pack before Ryan gets back to their room tonight. As much as Michael hates to admit it Ryan, the person who had once packed a tube of toothpaste without bothering to put the cap on it, is now in charge of all Phelps-Lochte packing operations. Ryan doesn’t forget sunscreen and swimming diapers. Ryan plans outfits before anything goes in a suitcase. Michael is sure that everything he’s worn since getting to Rio had also been pre-planned and strategically folded into his bag by Ryan. 

Michael finds the last Ziploc tucked at the bottom of his suitcase and carefully puts it at the foot of the bed. He takes a pull-up from the nearly empty pack and picks out a pair of tiny sneakers.

Oliver sleeps for ten more minutes and Michael uses that time to throw the bags away and to shove the dirty toddler clothes in Oliver’s luggage. He finds clothes that are still clean for Oliver to wear on the flight home and feels victorious, gold medal in hotel room packing at least. 

“Morning Bud.” He smiles at Oliver when he turns back to the bed and sees Oliver sitting up looking at him. “No sleeps until we see Dad!” 

He says it excitedly and Oliver smiles at him before babbling something back. 

“Potty?” Michael offers. 

He reaches and picks Oliver out of bed before carrying him to the training potty in the bathroom. A potty they’d had to pack and bring with them to Brazil. 

Michael sits on the edge of the tub and waits, listening to Oliver babble about nothing really. He looks over on the counter to make sure there are M&Ms for Oliver’s reward. 

This is his life. While Ryan is probably already awake at practice or in physio, Michael’s sitting in a hotel bathroom waiting for their two year old to pee. There were times while Ryan was training where Michael had thought of making a comeback. Days when he would drop by the pool to swim and know that if he put in the effort he could still do it. 

They had Oliver though and Oliver was more important than another shot of Olympic glory. 

“DONE.” Oliver yells gleeful. 

“Good job Bud!” Michael reaches for the M&M bag but Oliver is already running out of the bathroom, without pants on, in search of his security blanket. 

“You have to wash your hands.” Michael reminds him when he walks out of the bathroom, “Come on dude.” 

“NO ‘UDE!” Oliver defies, standing half naked on their bed. 

“How d’you even climb on there?” Michael groans, “Come on. At least put on underwear.” 

“NO ‘UDE!” Oliver yells again, laughing madly. 

“Yes dude.” Michael insists. “We gotta go see Dad.” 

“Dada?” Oliver stops his madman dance. 

“Yeah Dada.” Michael nods, “He’s coming back tonight. We’re gonna go home tomorrow.” 

“Stewwa?” Oliver asks. 

“Yeah!” Michael smiles and grabs a pull up, “Stella and Herman.” 

“Dada Owiver.” Oliver continues to list, “Tawan.” 

“Yeah.” Michael smiles and thinks of the latest ultrasound pictures on his phone. “Talan. Not yet though.” 

They have so much waiting for them at home and Michael isn’t sure he has the patience to wait another day before they get there. 

“Want to go eat some breakfast?” Michael offers, “I have juice.” 

Oliver is addicted to blueberry-apple juice that stains everything and tastes horrible. They buy it by the case and had brought enough with them for Oliver to get through Rio. 

“BWUE!” Oliver yells again, reaching out for Michael. “DADA!”

It takes another hour and a half to get Oliver fed, to wash his face and his hands, to get him dressed and to drop him off to Ryan’s mom so that Michael can get ready himself. Three and a half hours after Oliver had first woken up, they’re both sitting in the stands waiting for the race for the start. 

Oliver sits on Ike’s lap, playing with the lanyard of her credentials, kicking his sneakers happily into the air. He’s happier before races start, when the crowd is quieter and he’s not being separated from Ryan. 

Michael knows he’s pushing the patience of a two year old by taking him to races everyday. Oliver is a trooper though and between all their family members they’ve managed to keep him busy enough that he doesn’t have complete meltdowns in the stands. 

Oliver doesn’t recognize Ryan’s name when it’s called out over the loudspeakers but he does recognize Ryan’s face blown up on the monitors everywhere. Oliver waves furiously at the screen and gets increasingly frustrated when Ryan doesn’t wave back. 

“It’s okay Bud.” Michael rubs Oliver’s back and lets him hide his face against his neck. He kisses Oliver’s mop of brown curls and bounces him a bit, “He’s gonna see you soon.” 

“Dada.” Oliver says sadly. He curls one of his hands around Michael’s ear. 

“I know.” Michael keeps rubbing his back, “But look!” 

Michael peels Oliver’s face away from his neck and turns him around to see the pool.

“Dad’s gonna swim fast.” Michael points to Ryan getting up on his block, “He’s getting you a medal.” 

Oliver stares intensely at the pool and Michael wonders how much of it he actually understands. He’s sure Oliver will grow up not remembering any of it but it makes Michael happy to know they’re there together to cheer on Ryan. He knows that beyond everything that had happened, what Ryan had wanted the most was to have both of them there. 

Ryan wins gold in his last Olympic race and Michael doesn’t care about not making the highlight reel. He jumps and cheers until Oliver puts a hand up to his mouth to get him to quiet down. 

Oliver looses interest between the race and the medal ceremony. He settles back down when Ryan walks out. This time Ryan waves back and Oliver is beside himself with excitement. 

Ryan makes his way to the stands after the medal ceremony. He tosses his bouquet of flowers up to Ike before hoisting himself up in front of Michael and Oliver. 

“Dada!” Oliver reaches towards him, “S’over.” 

“Hand him down.” Ryan tells Mike, he reaches up towards Oliver. “I wanna hold him.” 

“Ry.” Michael looks down, keeping one of his arms firmly wrapped around Oliver’s middle “That’s like a two feet drop. No way.” 

“Hold on.” Ryan scans around looking determined. He spots an unattended chair a few feet away and grabs it. “Here. Awesome.” 

Standing on it makes him tall enough to grab Oliver out of Michael’s hands. 

“Dada!” Oliver cries out excited, he strains to reach him. 

“Hey Gator!” Ryan looks tired but he smiles tenfold when he makes contact with his son, “You’re coming to see me let’s go!” 

Against his better judgment (he can already see the headlines), Michael hands Oliver to Ryan over the glass crowd barricade. It’s only a second before Oliver is safe in Ryan’s arms, snuggled against Ryan’s podium jacket. 

“I missed you.” Ryan kisses Oliver’s face and holds his hand up for Michael to drop the sippy cup he’s also holding, “D’you miss me?”

“Yeah.” Oliver wraps his arms around Ryan’s neck, grabbing the medal of the ribbon in one of his fists. 

“Do you wanna see it?” Ryan offers. He reaches behind his neck with his free hand and pulls the medal off, “Here you go Gator.” 

Oliver presses the palm of his hand against the medal. 

“D’you want it?” Ryan offers. 

“Yeah.” Oliver nods, “For me.” 

“Yeah for you.” Ryan slips the ribbon over Oliver’s head, “Looks good Gator.” 

A security guard who’d witnessed Ryan’s stunt was quick to remove the chair. By the time a volunteer comes to tell Ryan he has to head back, Ryan has no way of handing Oliver back up to Michael. 

“I didn’t think this through.” Ryan admits sheepishly, “I’ll just take him with me?” 

“I’m sure we can find someone to get him to me.” Michael suggests instead.

“No.” Ryan shrugs it off, “He’s good with me. Means they gotta let me out sooner.” 

*

Two hours later, Oliver’s made his television debut in a dozen interviews. He finishes his media training by sitting on Ryan’s lap for the duration of a Team USA press conference. The gold medal is still around Oliver’s neck, though Ryan supports most of the weight for him. 

Hidden in the back of the room, Michael just smiles watching Ryan answer questions while feeding Oliver halved grapes.

“Um just-” Ryan says, not focusing any of his attention on the journalist asking the question about retirement, “Focus on this guy and my husband. We have another baby on the way so just be a family. That’s what I’m looking forward to, spending more time with them.” 

Michael knows without a doubt that it’s the truth. Ryan and him haven’t even had time to talk about Talan’s new ultrasound pictures. Michael finds himself fidgeting counting down the minutes until Ryan doesn’t have to do any of this anymore. He can’t wait until he can take Ryan back home and let him relax.

Oliver and Ryan meet up with Michael in the car driving them back to the hotel. Oliver is dead asleep in Ryan’s arm and drooling on his shoulder. 

“I didn’t think he was gonna be a superstar.” Ryan admits, ‘I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay.” Michael kisses him, “I don’t care.” 

He doesn’t try to take Oliver because he knows Ryan hasn’t gotten to hold him for way too long. 

“I’m done.” Ryan suddenly realizes. “Like done.” 

“Welcome to retirement.” Michael announces.

“You got golf clubs waitin’?” Ryan jokes.

“Yeah.” Michael crosses his legs and drops one hand over Ryan’s thigh, “We’re playing two rounds tonight.”

Ryan laughs and it’s a sound Michael’s missed. 

“We’re flying home tomorrow.” Michael explains for real, to show Ryan that he has a plan. To make sure Ryan’s not worried about anything, “ No golf.” 

“Oh!” Ryan reaches for his phone, “I gotta- so I was looking at this the other night when I couldn’t sleep. Dwyer snores.” Ryan pulls up the new ultra sound pictures on his phone, “He’s waving at us.” 

“Yeah I saw.” Michael reaches to scroll through the few pictures their surrogate had sent, “This one you can kinda see him stretch, with his hand over his face?” 

“Yeah.” Ryan smiles, “He’s alright.”

 

**February, six months to Rotterdam**

 

Oliver can’t sleep. He sits up in his bed petting Bert with his foot while reading a book that’s not on his AP English class syllabus. Just as the Black Riders ambush Frodo and his companions before they reach Rivendell, loud voices begin to carry upstairs from the living room. 

“YOU FOUND A NEW SCHOOL?” 

Michael’s voice is so loud it makes Oliver cringe. 

Michael and him have been back in Florida since Christmas. Oliver’s not stupid. He knows that things between his dads aren’t great. He tries not to think too much about it. He tells himself that a ton of families who have kids training for the Olympics have to live apart. 

“YOU.” Ryan starts to scream. He lowers his voice for the rest of the sentence and Oliver can’t catch the end of the sentence.

Oliver knows most of their fights have been about him. Ryan hadn’t been keen on Bob taking over as his coach and Michael had taken over managing his training. It had been a hard transition for Oliver too and as much as he is improving with his grandfather as his coach, he misses training with Ryan. 

“YOU DON’T MAKE DECISIONS WITHOUT-” 

“WHEN YOU’RE IN BALTIMORE I’M HERE DEALING WITH ALL OF THIS SO YEAH I MAKE DECISIONS.” 

Oliver knows that this time his parents aren’t fighting about him. His schoolwork is mostly done at home or at the pool, he only goes to actual school two afternoons a week. Oliver knows this is about Talan and he knows that if he can hear them yelling, Talan can too. 

There’s no use tiptoeing because there’s no way his dads can hear him walking around over their yelling. 

Talan’s bedroom door is cracked open and when Oliver tries to open it wider he has to push against the pile of clothes stacked up on the other side. 

“HE’S NOT GOING TO A NEW SCHOOL RYAN.” 

Talan’s bedroom is lit up by the orange glow of the heat lamp in the turtle aquarium by his desk. Oliver has to step over piles of dirty laundry, avoid squashing tubes of acrylic paint and look out for Turtle who for all he knows was left to roam the bedroom for the night just to get to Talan’s bed. 

Talan has his blankets pulled over his head. Oliver tugs them down when he sits beside Talan and steals one of his pillows to prop himself up again the wall. 

“They’re just talking loud.” Oliver says, he opens his book back up and starts to read again, “Go back to sleep.” 

“No it’s bad.” Talan whispers. He turns around to face Oliver. “It’s about me.”

“Baby.” Oliver closes his book. He scoots closer to Tal, “Go to sleep. It’s okay.” 

“WE WERE FINE WITHOUT YOU.” Ryan’s voice snarls. 

“You don’t have to stay.” Tal offers, “I’m okay.” 

“I’m not tired.” Oliver answers, “Go to sleep.” 

Oliver’s used to this. Used to sneaking off to Tal’s bedroom during storms and when their dads had parties that lasted past their bedtime. He knows fights wake Talan up and that instead of going back to sleep Talan will lay awake thinking of every possible worst ending scenario. 

“…IF HE HAS TO SWITCH SCHOOLS MAYBE IT’S.”

“HIS THERAPIST IS THE ONE WHO SAID-” 

“Read?” Tal asks. 

“It’s halfway through the book, it won’t make sense.” Oliver apologizes, “D’you have The Hobbit.” 

Talan shakes his head. 

“Fine… I’ll just…” Oliver thumbs back a few pages, “When Frodo came to himself he was still clutching the Ring desperately. He was lying by the fire, which was now piled high-”

“YOU DON’T CARE. YOU CARE ABOUT OLIVER AND BALTIMORE AND HIS-” 

“It’s just loud Tal.” Oliver reassures, “It’s okay.” 

“What if he makes him leave?” Tal asks, “What if they split us up?” 

“It’s not going to happen. Come on, listen to the book.” 

“I CARE RYAN. I CARE TALAN WASN’T DOING OKAY AND YOU NEVER-” 

Talan winces when his name is yelled and Oliver drops the book. He reaches out and rubs his younger brother’s shoulder. 

“It’s okay Baby.” 

“No it’s not.” Talan squeezes his eyes shut. 

“Want Bert?” Oliver snaps his fingers at the chocolate lab sleeping on a discarded towel and the dog jumps up on the bed. 

“He’s gonna squash Hoops watch it.” Tal moves farther sideways, leaving enough room for Bert to settle down. 

“They’re stressed out because of me.” Oliver says, “Not you. Dad doesn’t want grandpa coaching me and he’s mad at dad. It’s gonna be okay.” Oliver repeats the stupid sounding sentence trying to comfort Tal even though he can’t half convince himself. “Go to sleep.” 

“I can’t.” 

“Want me to keep reading to you?” 

“No.” Talan shakes his head. 

“You’re switching schools?” Oliver asks to change the subject. 

“No.” Talan shakes his head, “Just like maybe… Dad has a meeting with the new school and Dad has to be there too.”

“What kinda school?” Oliver feels out of the loop with Talan’s life too. 

“Has a better basketball program… Small classes… I could like study at home so if I can’t go it’s-” 

“IT’S A MEETING MIKE. IF YOU DON’T SHOW UP THEN I’M-” 

“YOU’RE GONNA WHAT?” Michael’s tone is mocking, “TELL ME WHAT YOU’RE GOING TO DO RYAN.” 

“He’s gonna make Dad leave.” Talan whispers. 

“No.” Oliver answers automatically even though he’s not half convinced. “He’s not.” 

Talan doesn’t answer, he’s to busy listening. He waits to hear more yelling from downstairs or the sound of a door slamming and Ryan’s car driving away. He tries to remember who’s car had been last in the driveway. He imagines going down for breakfast and only having one of their dads there. It makes his chest feel tight. 

“Dads keep your meds in their bathroom?” Oliver asks, “I can go get you some.”

“No.” Talan brushes off the offer, “I wanna be awake if it gets bad.” 

“It’s not going to get bad.” Oliver insists, “See they stopped yelling.“

Oliver doesn’t know what else to say. He puts his book down on the floor and catches a glimpse of Turtle creeping across the floor. 

“I found your turtle.” He tells Talan. 

“Yeah he’s okay.” Talan says unalarmed, “Don’t step on him.” 

“I wasn’t-” Oliver starts to protest. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” Talan interrupts. 

“Secret for a secret?” Oliver offers.

“I go first.” Talan lowers his voice “I gotta like-” 

“Okay.” Oliver agrees, “What’s your secret?” 

“You can’t tell.” Tal conditions. “Anyone.”

“Those are the rules, I know them.” 

“Promise.” 

“I promise Tal,” Oliver rolls his eyes at his brother’s insistence. 

“When you an Dad weren’t here…” Tal hesitates, “Dad…” 

“Dad what?” Oliver’s suddenly more interested in Tal’s secret, “What did Dad do?” 

“He-” Tal looks unsure, “He drinks like he... He doesn’t think I know...”

“What? Like a lot?” 

“No but he was drunk like-” 

“Why didn’t you call?” Oliver asks concerned, “To tell.” 

“I didn’t want Dad to get mad.”

“Which?”

“Both.” 

Oliver feels responsible. He’s the reason his family’s been living apart. He’s the reason their parents have been fighting. He’s the reason Talan had to deal with everything on his own. 

“Was it a lot?” Oliver repeats, “Like-” 

“No.” Tal is quick to defend Ryan “I was just… I don’t want him to leave.” Talan’s face crumbles.

“D’you want me to go tell them to stop?” Oliver asks. He slinks lower in bed and leans against Tal. 

“No.” Talan wipes his face with the back of his hand and Hoops stands up to investigate what’s wrong, “Stay here.” 

“Go to sleep Baby.” Oliver soothes one more time, trying to be the brave one. Hoping Talan doesn’t notice he’s just as scared. 

Talan leans his head against Oliver’s shoulder. With no loud voices coming from downstairs his eyes are closed and Oliver is pretty sure his brother is falling asleep. 

“S’your secret?” Talan mumbles, not even bothering to open his eyes. “Y’owe me.” 

“I won’t tell yours Tal, just go to sleep.” 

“No.” This time Talan does open his eyes, “I wanna know we have a deal.”

Oliver reaches down to pet Bert, rubbing his ear until the dog moves his head to rest against Oliver’s stomach. Oliver doesn’t talk hoping for Talan to fall asleep. 

“Say it.” Tal insists. 

“I’m-” Oliver hesitates. He knows what he wants to tell Talan because it’s something he needs to tell someone. 

“What?” 

Oliver takes his time, he tries to go over the pros and cons in his head. He knows that Tal’s never betrayed the rules of the games. 

“I’m dating Evan.” Oliver finally admits. 

“Yeah so?” Talan says unimpressed, “Tell me a real secret.”

“Fuck you that’s a real secret.” Oliver says outraged that his confession was met with so little interest, “I just like-” 

“Dads are gay.” Talan rolls his eyes. “Please.” 

Talan smashes down his pillow and pulls his blankets back up. Hoops digs his way under them and settles himself beside Talan’s head on the pillow. 

“Tell me a real secret.” 

“This is like my fault.” Oliver says and once spoken the words hurt a lot more than they had just bouncing around his head, “ And if I quit I let dad down… if I keep going it’s gonna get worse… If I quit then all this shit was for nothing…” 

“Dad won’t care if you quit.” Talan says confidently. 

“Which one?” 

“I don’t care if you quit.” Talan answers instead. 

Oliver nods instead of speaking. He’s not sure he can keep his voice from breaking and he knows his tears would shatter the illusion that he’s confident things will be okay. 

He falls asleep with his face pressed against Bert’s fur and wakes up when Michael shakes his shoulder gently. 

“Bud.” Michael’s voice is low, “Come on… Back to your bed.” 

“Watch the turtle.” Oliver mumbles. 

“He’s back in his tank. Come on back to your bed.” 

“Tal was scared.” Oliver grabs Talan’s pillow and throws his legs over the side of the bed. He stands up and lets Michael steady him. 

“He’s sleeping, come on.” 

Michael keeps a firm grip on Oliver’s t-shirt while he guides him out of the mess of Talan’s bedroom, into the hallway and back into his own bed. 

“Go back to sleep.” Michael says once Oliver is under his own blankets and Bert’s jumped up and settled back at the foot of the bed, “No reading.” 

Michael hovers by Oliver’s bed. He knows Ryan and him lost control. He hates knowing that both boys were awake listening to them fight. 

“I’m sorry dad.” Oliver mumbles. 

“No Bud.” Michael shakes his head, “We’re sorry.” 

Michael stays in Oliver’s bedroom for another minute waiting for him to fall asleep. Oliver never acknowledges his last sentence. When Michael walks back into the hallway he sees that the downstairs lights are still on which means that Ryan still hasn’t come upstairs. 

When Michael walks into his room, Talan pulls the blankets higher over his head and pretends to be asleep. He opens his eyes a bit to see Michael sit down in his desk chair before he squeezes them shut. 

Talan strains to hear noises coming from downstairs; he hadn’t heard a door opening or a car leaving but he thinks that Ryan might have quieter ways of leaving. 

“Is Turtle okay in his tank?” Michael asks, not wanting the death of Turtle to hang over his head along with the middle of the night fight. 

“Is Dad still here?” Talan whispers instead. 

“Yeah Tal.” Michael sighs, “He’s downstairs. He’ll be up in a few do you want him to come say goodnight?” 

“Did you… Is he leaving?” Talan pushes down the blankets. 

“He’s not leaving.” Speaking to Talan about it makes Michael feel worse than he had with Oliver, “Talan things are okay.” 

“Are you leaving?” 

“No.” Michael insists, he moves from the desk chair to sit on Talan’s mattress.  
“No one’s leaving. We were just… No one is going anywhere. We’re sorry Tal.” 

“Dad doesn’t have to be sorry.” Talan turns his back to Michael. 

“Talan.” Michael reaches for Tal’s shoulder trying to get him to turn back around, “I didn’t know you were having a tough time.” 

“It’s not that.” Talan corrects him, “It just might be better.”

The answer is so rehearsed sounding that Michael automatically knows it’s a line Talan picked up in therapy. It bothers him to no end that sentences like that make their way into his child’s vocabulary straight from the mouth of a four hundred dollars an hour psychologist. 

“Are you sure Dad’s still here?” Talan asks again. 

Michael sighs in resignation, knowing that he’s not the one Talan needs to see. 

“Dad said you haven’t missed school though.” Michael squeezes what he thinks is Talan’s knee but ends up being Hoops’ back. The dog shakes him off from under the blankets. 

“He won’t let me.” Talan corrects, “I gotta try everyday. Go in with a purpose not just to get through it.” 

Michael knows that line is all Ryan. 

“Dad’s still here Tal.” Michael lulls. 

“What’s he doing?” Talan replies concerned. 

“I don’t know.” Michael admits, “I’ll tell him to come up.” 

“Please.” Tal asks. 

Michael glances at the alarm clock by Tal’s bed in time to catch the time changing to 3:30 am. Both boys have to be up in less than three hours. 

“I’ll turn your alarm off.” Michael decides, “You can’t go to school with no sleep.” 

“Go get Dad.” Talan asks, “Please.” 

“Get some sleep Baby.” Michael stands and reaches to press the alarm button on the teenage mutant ninja turtle alarm clock Talan had stolen from Debbie’s attic. 

The last thing Michael wants to do is face Ryan. He waits at the top of the stairs for a second, hoping to see Ryan walk into view but Ryan stays wherever he is. Michael checks in on Oliver again before starting down the stairs. 

He finds Ryan standing in the kitchen, his forehead pressed against the glass doors staring at their dark backyard. 

“Doggy.” The nickname escapes before he can think that maybe he shouldn’t be using it at the moment. 

Ryan doesn’t look at him. 

“Both the guys were awake.” Michael says, “They heard…” He doesn’t go on, “Ols is okay he’s sleeping but Tal’s still awake and I told him you’d go up to see him.” 

Ryan still doesn’t move. Michael sweeps the kitchen looking for an open bottle of whatever alcohol Ryan would have found first. The counters are clean and empty though. 

“You okay?” Michael offers. 

“It was.” Ryan lifts his forehead off the window to look at him, “A lot of work to find that school for Tal and to get him stoked about it and to get him to go to school everyday.” 

“I know. I talked to him.” 

“At three am?” Ryan’s voice oozes with disapproval, “Come on Mike.” 

“I’ll go.” Michael concedes. 

“I didn’t need you to go.” Ryan walks away from the door, “They don’t need both parents to sign or to meet with the principal. Tal coulda started three weeks ago but I said it wasn’t a decision to make without you.” 

“You didn’t say that-” Michael’s frustrated because Ryan always shows his full hand after fights. Always pulls the good guy script out of left field. 

“I got tired of driving the kid somewhere he didn’t wanna go to every morning. This place he wants to go. They have a art program and the coach has good hook ups to colleges. Tal can send work online if he doesn’t feel good-” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Michael’s almost too frustrated to cope. Sometimes Ryan’s inability to put his thoughts into words makes their fights worse than they have to be. 

“Baby wanted to try sticking it out. If he could do it he didn’t want you to know-”

“You keep the fifteen year old’s secrets from me?” Michael contests.

“You told me every time Ols was hurt after practice?” Ryan quickly retorts. 

“Fair.” Michael allows. 

“He went to school everyday since it started.” Ryan points out, “Even if I had to go pick him up at lunch or like… halfway through his first class one day he tried. That’s like all we ever asked both of ‘em to do right? Try? Well he tried and he needs something different. I’m not big on the kid thinking he’s dumb when it’s just not the right place. Tal’s done his part.” 

“I trust you.” Michael admits. Regardless of how he feels about Ryan or Ryan’s communication skills or Ryan’s drinking habits Michael knows Ryan loves both their kids as much as he does. “I told him he doesn’t have to go tomorrow-” 

“Yeah.” Ryan glances at the time on the microwave, “He can’t.” 

“We’ll go to the new school and then he can go get his things and start Monday.” 

“We could have done this two hours ago.” Ryan sighs, “We always like…” He mimicks a bomb blowing up with his hands before he walks past Michael, “I’ll go check on Baby.” 

“Come to bed after?” Michael reaches for Ryan’s arm to stop him from walking away, “Not the guest room.” 

Ryan nods before heading towards the stairs. 

Talan is asleep. Ryan walks in his room anyways and busies himself fixing Tal’s blankets before making sure his alarm is off. He knocks down a copy of Lord of the Rings he’s sure isn’t something Talan’s and Talan wakes up. 

“Go back to sleep Baby.” Ryan tells him, “Your dad an me are going to bed.” 

“Scared you were gonna leave.” Tal says and his voice breaks Ryan’s heart. 

“Come on.” Ryan smiles reassuringly, “I wouldn’t leave without you.” 

“Dad’s mad ‘bout the school.” Talan whispers. He moves himself to the side to give Ryan room to sit. 

“No.” Ryan sits and reaches over Talan’s legs to pet Hoops, “He’s not mad, we’re going to go sign you up tomorrow.” 

“I tried like-” 

“Dad’s not mad at you Tal.” Ryan interrupts, “I’m sure he came to make sure you were okay.” 

“Is he mad at you?” 

“No Talan.” Ryan sighs, “No one’s mad. We were just… No one’s leaving.” 

Talan looks at him skeptically before yawning. 

“Your room’s a disaster.” Ryan observes, letting his eyes scan the disaster before him, “You’re cleaning this tomorrow.” 

“It’s like…” Talan starts to explain, “I know where everything is.” 

“Sure.” Ryan answers sarcastic. He pats Talan’s leg before standing. “Night.”

“No.” Talan objects, “I gotta tell Dad I’m sorry.” Talan sits and pushes his blankets away. 

“In the morning.” Ryan stops him, “It’s okay.” 

Talan yawns again. He settles back against his pillow and pushes Hoops away to get more room. 

“Everything’s okay Dork.” Ryan repeats, “ We love you go to sleep.” 

“Ok.” Talan says reluctantly, “Night.” 

Ryan hovers in Talan’s room for a few more minutes, kicking clothes to the side and picking up cereal bowls and Gatorade bottles. Once he knows Talan is asleep he leaves quietly. 

Once in the master bedroom, Ryan starts getting ready for bed without acknowledging Michael’s presence. He picks up Michael’s pants and shirt from the floor and throws them in the hamper before going to brush his teeth. 

“I forgot to throw them in.” Michael apologizes when Ryan walks out of the bathroom. 

“Yeah.” Ryan says unconvinced, “You and Talan should share a room.” 

“He’s good?” Michael asks, “I tried but like he didn’t want me there he wanted-” 

“Yeah he’s sorry he was a brat.” Ryan explains, “He’s okay.” 

Ryan hesitates before getting into bed. He keeps his t-shirt on and doesn’t move towards the middle of the bed. 

“I’m sorry I was a brat too.” Michael says. 

“We can’t fight like that.” Ryan says, “Not with the dudes here like they shouldn’t hear that.” 

“I know.” Michael answers, “They-” 

“I’m sorry MP.” 

“We’re good then.” Michael states. 

 

**Rotterdam, Day 9**

 

When Michael wakes up the morning after their fight, Ryan’s side of the bed is empty. The sheets are thrown back and it’s the only clue Michael has to tell him that Ryan had slept in their bed. Michael had waited up for Ryan, rehearsing an apology combined with a worried speech about alcohol consumption but he’d fallen asleep before Ryan had come to bed. Michael knows that despite his threats, Ryan had gone to check on Talan. 

Michael checks his phone first. He has a dozen emails but once he sees that there are no messages from Oliver or from Bob he pushes it back beside the lamp. 

It’s Oliver’s day off and Michael hopes that Oliver is still asleep somewhere in his room in the athlete’s village. He thinks about calling Bob but knows he shouldn’t. 

Even though Oliver isn’t swimming, they still have tickets to watch the day’s races and Michael can hear Talan and Ryan talking in the living room of their suite. He gets out of bed, puts sweatpants on and walks out of the bedroom ready to face the two members of his family he knows aren’t happy with him. 

Ryan and Tal are eating breakfast watching Dutch morning cartoons. Talan is still in pajamas and his hair sticks up everywhere. Michael has to fight back the urge to walk over and smooth it down. 

“What d’you think he’s sayin’” Ryan asks, pointing to the television with the spoon from his coffee mug. 

“The space dog thing?” Talan laughs, he concentrates on the television for a few seconds before answering “Probably like ‘thousands and thousands of monkeys!’” He makes his voice lower than normal and sounds exactly like Ryan. 

“There’s not even monkeys.” Ryan laughs at him, “Eat your eggs.” 

Michael hates that his immediate reaction is to be annoyed. He’s annoyed that Ryan got to be there when Talan woke up, annoyed that Ryan got to apologize for yesterday first, that Ryan got to make sure Talan was okay and that Ryan got Talan to laugh. He’s annoyed that Talan always forgives Ryan right away. 

Talan pulls his plate in closer and pushes scrambled eggs around his place before taking a forkful into his mouth. He grabs a piece of toast from the basket between his and Ryan’s plate. 

“What’re we gonna do when we get home?” Ryan asks, “While your dad an Ols are in New York.” 

“Beach.” Talan says without hesitating, “Like right away. Go somewhere to surf. Beat you at-” 

“We gotta put a new net.” Ryan notes, “Make sure it’s solid so you can dunk.” 

“Awesome.” Talan answers his mouth full of toast. Bits of chewed up bread fly out “I dunk awesome.”

“Gross Dork.” Ryan laughs. 

Sometimes Michael feels like an intruder. Because Ryan and Talan have their own language and their own habits, things that he can’t begin to understand. You can’t ignore how much Talan looks like Ryan or the mannerisms they share. 

Michael knows Talan is like him, he knows Talan and him are close. Talan and him golf together and he’s spent countless hours teaching him to swim to keep him safe at surfing competitions. Talan is messy and can’t match clothes to save his life. Talan is quiet and calm in a way Ryan wouldn’t ever tolerate. Talan isn’t as outgoing or as self-confident. Talan is more patient. 

“Morning.” Talan calls out once he spots Michael, his mouth still full, “We got you breakfast.” 

“Thanks.” Michael answers, he sits down at the coffee table, his knees bumping against Talan’s foot, “You good Baby?” 

“Yeah.” Talan nods. “I was tired yesterday.” 

“He wanted coffee.” Ryan cuts in, “I said-” 

“Oliver gets coffee.” Talan reasons to Michael, trying his argument on a new person, “So I should-” 

“No.” Michael stops him, “You get juice.” 

“It’s just not fair.” Talan complains but he drinks his orange juice anyways. 

Breakfast is quieter than it usually is but all three of them are exhausted. Michael stretches out his legs and rubs Ryan’s leg and smiles when Ryan doesn’t move away. 

“Please eat more eggs.” Ryan pleads when Talan reaches for another slice of toast “We’re not gonna be back here for lunch, you have to-” 

“Where we going?” Tal asks earnestly. “I told Brady I’d meet him out by twelve.”

“No.” Ryan corrects him, “There’s races today.”

“Oliver’s not swimming.” Talan replies smartly, “He said he had practice then he was going back to sleep.” He brandishes his phone as proof. 

“Ols’ texting you?” Michael reaches for Talan’s phone, “I want to-” 

“We’re still going to watch.” Ryan tells Tal

“And I’m staying here.” Talan says slowly like Ryan doesn’t understand, “And going out with Brady.”

“No Pal.” Michael hands Talan his cell phone back, “You’re coming with us.” 

Michael knows Ryan feels the same, that a day after they’d left Talan to fend for himself both of them aren’t ready to leave him alone. 

“No.” Talan insists, speaking even more slowly. “I don’t want to.” 

“It’s three races.” Ryan smiles, “You an Brady can hang out tonight.”

“I’m not going.” Talan argues, his voice taking on an edge “I’m going out with Brady.”

“No Talan.” Michael’s voice is firm, “We’re going together.”

“Oliver’s not even swimming!” Talan turns to Michael instead, “I don’t wanna go watch without Oliver. It’s-”

“Not a choice go.” Michael points to the door, “We’re going to be-”

“No.” Talan crosses his arm. “I’m not going.” 

“Talan.” Ryan’s voice isn’t as firm as it could be, “We’ll make it fun-” 

“No.” Talan says again, “There’s going to be a crowd and people will wanna be around you guys and I’m just gonna. I don’t hafta be there. I don’t want to be there. It’s going to be fucking boring as-”

“Language!” Michael warns, “It’s not up for debate.” 

“It’s not up for debate.” Talan mocks, his voice sounding a lot like his earlier cartoon impression. 

“Talan.” Ryan says, “Watch it.”

“I don’t wanna go!” Talan whines, “It’s stupid and boring and we never do anything I wanna do. You said we would and we don’t but it’s what you wanna do and what Ols is doing all the time-”

“Stop Talan.”

“Stop Talan.” Talan gets up, “ You don’t care.”

“That’s enough.” Michael calls after him. He stands and takes three steps across the room to catch Talan’s arm.

“NO!” Talan whips around and yells, “I’M NOT GOING I DON’T WANT TO.” 

“Talan.” Ryan’s voice is firm, “Chill out. You don’t yell at your-”

“DON’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO.” Talan yells.

“Watch yourself.” Michael tightens his grip on Tal’s arm to keep him from getting free, “Keep going and you won’t hang out with Brady at all.” 

“Leave me alone.” Talan’s eyes narrow and he tries to wiggle free, “Lemme go.” 

“No way.” Michael answers, “You have to apologize to-” 

“No YOU have to apologize.” Talan argues back, “YOU don’t care. You wanna take me there and you know it’ll be too many people and I’m gonna have a panic attack and so you can just send me here and not hafta spend time to- So you can just think ‘bout Oliver and-” 

“Stop.” Michael cautions “Think of the words coming out of your mouth.” 

“You can go-” Talan doesn’t get to finish but what he was planning on saying is pretty clear. 

“Talan Michael!” Ryan steps forward, “Grounded.” 

“YOU SUCK!” Talan yells, “I HATE YOU!” 

“THAT’S ENOUGH! THIS ISN’T ABOUT YOU.” Michael yells back. 

“Mike.” Ryan puts himself between Michael and Talan, “Stop.” 

“Yeah?” Michael refocuses his anger on Ryan, “You’re gonna take his side.” 

“I just want you to calm down.” Ryan says, he looks down at where Michael is still holding onto Talan’s arm. “Let him go, come on.”

“You have responsibilities Talan.” Michael lets go of Talan’s arm and takes a step back.

“I DON’T CARE.” Talan keeps screaming. 

“You’re being selfish!” Michael snaps. He takes a step forward and watches Talan take a step back. 

“Mike.” Ryan steps in front of him “Stop. I’m serious.” 

“I can’t say anything to him without it going wrong!” Michael tells Ryan, “He wants to stay here fine. I don’t care. Leave Talan. Go.” 

“Stay here.” Ryan reaches back blindly for Talan, “Don’t-” 

“I can’t deal with this.” Michael admits. He walks out of their suite and slams the door behind him leaving Talan and Ryan alone. 

Once Michael leaves Talan’s first sob escapes. 

“I wanna go home.” He cries. 

“I know.” Ryan answers, less sympathetic to Talan’s tears than he usually is, “We got one more day. You can make it one more day.” 

Talan sniffs and wipes his nose with the sleeve of his shirt. 

“You were out of line Tal.” Ryan reprimands, “That’s not like you.” 

“So was he.” Talan replies. 

“Yeah you both didn’t do great there.” Ryan rationalizes. “Go to your room and-” Ryan can’t think of anywhere else to send Tal. He looks up at his crying teenager and reaches out to hug him.

“Don’t.” Talan shrugs him off before walking away. 

Talan slams his door and Ryan is left alone in the living room. 

* 

Michael realizes storming out was a bad idea two seconds after the hotel room door slams shut. 

He’s essentially in pajamas without his wallet or his cellphone but he’s too stubborn to walk back into the room. He wanders the halls of the hotel instead, making his way to the top floor and onto the roof of the building. He’s not sure he’s allowed there but the air helps clear his head. 

It takes half an hour before he starts to feel calm again. He walks back down to their floor and into the room. He notices right away that it’s too quiet for Talan to still be around. 

“Hey.” Ryan walks out of their bedroom when he hears the door close. His hair is wet and he’s rubbing his freshly shaven face with a towel; there’s shaving cream still on his chin. “I was-” 

“Is Tal here?” Michael asks

“No he went out with Brady.” Ryan explains, “He needed to chill.“

“So he disobeys. He swears at me and you rewar-” 

“No.” Ryan corrects, “I let him go somewhere to cool down. You took a walk and he needed one too.” 

“You said he was grounded.” Michael reminds Ryan, “Last I checked that meant-” 

“You’re not mad at me.” Ryan says slowly, “Stop.” 

“You’re worse than-” 

“No.” Ryan shakes his head, “You yelled at Tal like you yell at me… Dude, you treat any of our dudes like that one more time and me an’ ‘em are gone.” 

“I lost my temper.” Michael sighs defeated. 

“That’s not an excuse.” Ryan says disgusted, “He’s fifteen. He loves you. You destroyed him.” 

“I fucking hate myself for it okay. I’ve never-” 

“Yeah you shouldn’t have.” Ryan says. 

“He was being a brat.” 

“So it makes it okay?” Ryan scoffs, “It doesn’t. He’s fifteen, it’s what he does. It’s what Ols did. They’re not that different.” 

“Ols wasn’t like that.” Michael disagrees. 

“They’re different people. Like you didn’t create the perfect kid okay?” Ryan reproaches, “Don’t make Tal feel second best.” 

“That’s not fucking fair.” Michael exclaims disgusted, “You know I don’t. What the fuck Ry?” 

“Once Ols is done.” Ryan starts, ignoring Michael’s comment “Like it’s back to just…” He motions between the two of them, “and I don’t wanna-” 

“You don’t want to what?” Michael’s voice is harsher than it should be. 

“What it’s been like.” Ryan looks puzzled at Michael’s reaction, “I’m not fighting with you.”

“Then what is it?” 

“We have to be us. After this. And we’re not, it’s-” 

“It’s like talking to Talan.” Michael interrupts aggravated, “Full sentences, big ideas.” He moves his hands around in large circles in front of Ryan’s face. 

“This.” Ryan’s voice gets angrier, “Stop.” 

Michael raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything. 

“You can say whatever shit you want about me.” Ryan snarls, “Leave my kid alone.” 

“I-” 

“No.” Ryan’s voice is firm, “You’re mad at me. You’re not mad at him.” 

“I’m mad at both of you.” Michael yells, “You knew it was going to be like this. You know what having a kid do nine races was going to be like. Tal knew this was going to be about Oliver and now he’s acting like this is new that we’re ignoring him or-” 

“You are!” Ryan pleads, “You told him we’d be with him to eat and to go watch basketball games. He never signed up to come here and be-”

“Things can’t always go his way. Things can’t be about him just because he’s got-” 

“You don’t think this makes it worse?!”

“You sent him away.” Michael points out, “At the race you told him to leave. So fuck you this isn’t on me.” 

“He knows I care.” 

“Is that why you got drunk? I waited up for him.” 

“I couldn’t stay here with you.” Ryan says quiet and his quiet is worse than yelling. “I don’t get what I did. I don’t get why you’re mad.”

Michael purses his lips and shakes his head. He looks away from Ryan. 

“Before Rio. When I was training too hard you told me to stop cause when this was over you still needed a husband and Ols still needed a dad.” 

Michael nods. 

“I know this stresses you out an’ I know you think I don’t get how serious it is or how hard it is on Ols or how important it is… All the shit you didn’t think I got when we were racing. For whatever fucking reason you think Tal doesn’t get it either and we’re both in the way for Ols an’ you to-” 

“I don’t-” 

“Yeah.” Ryan nods, “You do.” 

“I’m-” 

“And you’re taking it out on me.” Ryan finishes, “And Tal which isn’t fair you can’t do that to-” 

“And you can’t go out and get drunk.” Michael stresses, “I feel like I’m alone here. Like I got to take care of all three of you. I can’t make Tal angry because he has panic attacks. I can’t make you angry ‘cause you leave and get drunk. I can’t help Ols ‘cause I’m not his coach.” 

“It’s not like that.” Ryan defends himself. “I’m looking out for Ols as much as-”

“Firing Bob?” Michael shakes his head, “You’re not thinking like you-”

Ryan refuses to reply. He sits down in the chair in front of Michael’s and waits. 

Michael feels the anger drain out of him because Ryan is right. He’s not angry as much as he’s stressed out. He feels helpless in the face of a dozen problems he wants to solve. He wants Talan to be happy, he wants Ryan and him to be all right, he doesn’t want Oliver to regret coming to the Olympics. He wants Ryan to stop drinking. 

“Is it like a problem?” Michael asks bringing up a subject he’s been avoiding for months. 

“No.” Ryan lets the word roll slowly off his tongue, “I got control.” 

“Can you stop?” 

“Yeah.”

Michael chooses to believe him. He has nothing to gain from calling Ryan a liar based on just one night of evidence. 

They’ve been trying to keep the cracks in their relationship from reaching the surface for months. They’ve lived apart and focused on different kids. 

They’d been okay but two weeks into the thick of it they’re both at the end of their rope and taking it out on each other. 

“I’m worried about Ols.” Michael repeats. 

“Me too.” Ryan agrees.

“And Tal.”

“Talan’s okay.” Ryan reassures. “He misses Ols.” 

“Charlie said his prescription was too much.” Michael says voicing one of the concerns floating through his head, “I don’t think we should let him take it until his doctor can say it’s okay. He can see someone here if it happens-”

“I know you care about Tal.” Ryan moves to sit next to Michael. “Yesterday sucked.” 

“Is there something he wanted to do today? I feel like we need to-” 

“You can’t bribe Tal.” Ryan reminds him, “He doesn’t work like that.” 

“I’m not mad at him.” Michael adds. 

“I know.” Ryan says, “I’m not mad at Bowman.” 

“He’s mad at you.”

“He’s always mad at me.” 

“I’m not mad at you.” Michael admits.

“That’s almost sorry.” Ryan jokes but he knows that Michael’s being honest

“I love you.” Michael says instead. 

“Is this about sex?” Ryan raises an eyebrow, “because-” 

“Yeah I wish.” Michael drops his hand on Ryan’s leg and rubs his thigh. “D’you think Dev keeps tabs on his kid or are we gonna have to send a search party out for Talan?” 

“Dev’ll know where Brady is.” Ryan reassures, “We can go watch the race and meet up with him after.” 

“We’ll go meet him now.” Michael offers. “I don’t give a fuck about the race.” 

Michael leans his head against Ryan’s shoulder while Ryan calls his brother to determine the whereabouts of their sons. 

“Yeah we’ll send you your punk back.” Ryan smiles as he talks to his brother, “Thanks for letting him-” He stops to listen, “Yeah, we’re okay.” 

He hangs up a second later.

“They’re one block down by a fountain.” Ryan reveals, “Wanna go?” 

They walk out of the hotel together. Ryan has his hands in the pockets of his shorts and Michael keeps one of his hands pressed against the middle of Ryan’s back, keeping him close. 

“Ols shoulder wasn’t bothering him.” Ryan theorizes, “He wanted a way out.” 

“I feel like I pushed him.” Michael admits, “I don’t think he wanted to do it and I pushed him until he felt he couldn’t back out and now he’s not gonna be okay.” 

“No.” Ryan shakes his head, “No way.” 

“If he wasn’t our kid he wouldn’t be there.” Michael keeps talking, sharing the thoughts that have been keeping him awake since their first day in Rotterdam, “How many times did he want to quit and we made him stay. He’s not happy Ry… Yesterday he was just-” Michael takes his hand off Ryan’s back to gesture in frustration.

“Really tired.” Ryan finishes for him, “and homesick.” 

“And crying.” Michael looks pained, “He doesn’t cry.” 

“You didn’t push him.” Ryan confirms. He stops and steps in front of Michael, “I didn’t push him, Bowman didn’t push him. Ols’ like you, he couldn’t not go. We just helped. We did our jobs as his dads not as like who we are.” 

Michael puts his hand back on Ryan’s back and slides it to wrap around Ryan’s side pulling him in closer. 

“It tough to watch him hurt.” Ryan agrees, “We get him back tomorrow.” 

“Then we have to send him off.” Michael says sadly, “I’m not ready.” 

“I know.” Ryan leans sideways against him, without thinking about it. Something they still can’t openly do back in Florida. “Me too.” 

They’ve avoided talking about Oliver leaving for college since the Big Envelope had come from Harvard. It was an event they’d spent seventeen years pretending would never happen. 

“We should go on a trip.” Michael suggests, “After Oliver’s done his press.” 

“Mexico.” Ryan suggests. 

“Tal can’t surf in Mexico.” Michael dismisses the idea, “Like one of the places the surfer guys from the competition invited him to…” 

“Fiji?” Ryan challenges, “You wanna spend thirty hours on a plane with the kid?” 

“No like Costa Rica.” Michael counter offers. 

“He’d be stoked.” Ryan imagines Talan’s reaction, “Like really.” 

As they near the end of the first block the sound of running water starts to overwhelm the rest of the noises outside. They turn around the corner, following the brick wall of a series of shop to see the fountain. 

Talan is usually easy to spot but because he’s wearing Oliver’s more subdued clothing it takes Michael a minute to spot him. 

Tal sits on the edge with his feet planted on his skateboard, rolling his legs from side to side. He picks at a scab on his knee and chews on his lip. His glasses are pushed back on top of his head to hold down his curls. 

“Your parents know where you are punk?” Ryan jokes once they’re close enough for him to hear them. Ryan kicks on the tail of Tal’s skateboard and steals it from him. 

“You’re a dork.” Talan rolls his eyes, “Gimme.” 

“Doing better?” Michael speaks carefully and he hates it. Talan avoids looking up at him. 

“S’ok.” Talan nods, “Dad said I could go with Brady I didn’t just-” 

“I know.” Michael reassures, “I’m not mad Tal.” 

“If you say so.” Talan shrugs and snags his board back from Ryan just as Ryan’s about to step on it. 

“I’ll bring you back to your dad Brady.” Ryan offers, “Let’s go.” 

Before Michael can protest Ryan’s perfectly see through plan, Ryan and Brady are already running off to the sidewalk. 

Talan and Michael sit in complete silence for the twenty minutes it takes Ryan to walk Brady to the hotel and walk back to the fountain. 

They spend the day walking around the city. They get stopped a few times for pictures and autographs but for the most part they’re able to shop and sightsee undisturbed. 

By the end of the day, after they’ve eaten dinner at a restaurant that had tacos on the menu, Talan seems to have relaxed. They spend the rest of their evening watching movies and packing up the room. Michael waits until Talan’s in bed to talk to him. 

“I’m tired dad.” Talan groans when he sees Michael walk into his room, “We’re okay I promise like lemme sleep.” 

“It wasn’t okay Talan.” Michael insists, “It’s not going to happen again.” 

“Okay.” Talan pulls the blankets up to his neck and closes his eyes, “I believe you.” 

“You’re not selfish Talan.” Michael apologizes for the words he regrets the most. 

“Thank you.” Talan nods, “I’m sorry too.” 

“It’s okay.” Michael accepts his apology. 

Michael doesn’t linger and wait for Talan to fall asleep. He decides that after a full day of walking around Talan does just want to sleep. 

Michael falls asleep with all of Ryan’s limbs wrapped around him. It’s hours later when he’s woken up by his cell phone. 

He answers right away to not wake up Ryan. 

“’Lo?” He mumbles. 

“Dad?” Oliver is whispering, “Come get me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Excerpts from Lord of The Rings were clearly written by Tolkien and not by me. I wish I could remember why Oliver loves those books so much. I'm sure there was a reason at one point.


	7. Interlude: Fourth of July

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally suppose to be part of the last chapter but it got away from me. This is not the last chapter.

**July 4th, Daytona Beach, Three weeks to Rotterdam**

“It’s my time now.” Oliver’s voice echoes through the sound system in the living room. 

“CAN YOU SHUT THAT OFF?” Oliver yells from the kitchen, “TALAN I SWEAR TO FUCKING-“ 

“Cool it Gator.” Ryan walks into the kitchen and heads for the fridge, “I just wanted to check the score. Language.”

“Ugh.” Oliver groans, “They play it during the day now?”

“Price of being a rock star.” Ryan laughs at him, “You wanna trash talk us on national tv then we get to-”

“They made me trash talk you.” Oliver explains exasperated, “I told you. You were there. Dad made a huge thing about keeping my shirt on. It took forever.” 

“Gotta protect our baby.” Ryan says. He walks over to Oliver and smushes his son’s face with his free hand. 

“Oh my god stop.” Oliver rolls his eyes and tries to get away, “Stop.” 

“Headin’ to the pool?” Ryan asks, not letting go of Oliver’s face. 

“Yes.” Oliver frowns at his dad, “If you let me go.” 

“Want me to come?” Ryan offers, “No one else is gonna be there.” 

“Yeah.” Oliver doesn’t have to think about it. Swimming while his dad walks the deck next to him sounds better than being the only one at the Speed Club, “Please.” 

“Let’s go. I’ll drive.” Ryan grabs his keys, “Find your swim bag.” 

*

The speed club parking lot is empty and the front door is locked. 

“No one else swims on fourth of July.” Oliver grumbles while Ryan fiddles with the lock, “This blows.”

“I know how it feels.” Ryan sympathizes wrenching the door open. The smell of chlorine hits him as soon as he enters the building, “Get changed I’ll be waiting out here.” 

Oliver’s locker is the last one in the back and the lock has been broken since he’d started training after Christmas. He’d figured that making the national team would have at least earned him a better locker but Ryan had disagreed. 

“You don’t answer your phone?” 

The voice catches Oliver by surprise and he jumps back so hard he’s sure he’ll have the corner of his locker permanently indented in his back. 

“Jesus Ev.” Oliver rubs his shoulder, “Your car’s not even.” 

“I walked from… It doesn’t matter I didn’t want your dad to see my car. Dude you don’t answer your phone.” 

“Cause I don’t have an answer.” Oliver evades, “why are you here?” 

“I haven’t seen you in a week.” Evan points out, “Am I still coming over tonight?” 

“Course.” Oliver says like it’s obvious. 

“You’re gonna be there?” 

“Yes.” Oliver starts getting annoyed, “I have to change I’m-” 

“Naked under the towel.” Evan says appreciatively, “Hot.” 

Evan takes a step closer to Oliver and leans down to kiss him. He waits a few seconds before running his hand down Oliver’s arm before resting it on Oliver’s chest. 

“Dude.” Oliver grabs Evan by the wrist, “I have to swim… I can’t.” 

“Right now?” Evan challenges, he pushes his hand forward despite Oliver’s grip and splays his fingers over Oliver’s abs, “What’s gonna happen if you don’t swim right now?” 

“That’s not the point come on.” Oliver pushes Evan’s hand away, “You here to swim or you’re just dicking around?” 

“Whatever.” Evan takes a step back, “Just thought we could chill.” 

“We’ll chill tonight.” Oliver takes a step forward and it’s his turn to reach for Evan, “At the party… We’ll sneak off.” 

It scares Oliver how much he wants Evan. He knows it’s stupid but he goes through days where he tries to convince himself to like girls instead. Days where he forced himself to flirt with girls at school (who’d forgiven his swim team dork status once ESPN had come around with him at school) just to prove that he could. Times where he had lain under Evan trying to tell himself it wasn’t what he wanted. 

Oliver feels guilty for feeling this way, he knows he’s the last person who should feel the need to hide his boyfriend. He knows his parents would understand, he knows they would support him. A part of him figures they already know but a larger part of him can’t help but think of what would happen if more people knew. If the people who were getting ready to cheer him on knew. He’s not sure enough about himself to put it out in the open. 

Oliver is going to Harvard and Evan isn’t. Oliver’s swimming in the Olympics and Evan had given up before he’d ever gotten to nationals. Oliver has goal sheets taped inside his locker and beside his bed and pro-con lists about everything in his life that requires a decision more involved than what to eat for breakfast. Everything in his life is organized, makes sense and has a purpose. The only part of his life that makes no sense is Evan. 

“Ols.” Evan snaps his fingers. 

“Uh what?” Oliver blinks back to reality. 

“You got like.” Evan stops unsure. 

“I’m sorry.” Oliver says, “I have?” 

“Condoms for-” 

The first time they’d tried to have sex had been a disaster. Oliver had topped because of Evan’s faulty logic that he’d know what to do. When Oliver had been clueless and everything had felt more uncomfortable than good they’d given up. 

A few weeks later, when Talan had been spending the night at Brady’s and Michael and Ryan had been out of town Evan had come over claiming to know what to do from watching porn videos. He’d also insisted that it was his turn to top. 

Twenty minutes later, Oliver had been on his stomach, with Evan’s fingers in him, biting his own arm to keep himself from yelling out. 

“Does it hurt?” Evan had stilled his fingers in concern, “dude you gotta-” 

“No.” Oliver had managed to gasp, turning his head to look back at Evan who was still wearing all his clothes, “Fuck don’t stop.”

Oliver hadn’t needed to keep looking at Evan to know he was grinning. 

“Charles.” Evan snaps his fingers in front of Oliver’s face again, “Fucking space cadet.” 

“Yeah we’re good.” Oliver finally answers. 

“Am I swimming with you?” Evan asks, “Cause there’s fireworks on the beach so we can bail-” 

“No.” Oliver hangs his head, “I gotta stay here… My dad’s here he’ll stay.” 

“Okay.” Evan can’t help but look disappointed, “I just thought since-” 

“Doesn’t make a difference.” Oliver groans, “Dude like you know.” 

“Your life kinda sucks.” Evan looks at him sadly, “You don’t like-” 

“I don’t like what?” Oliver challenges. 

“Like have fun.” Evan finishes even though he knows it’s a risky move, “You’re not fun.” 

“Um okay…” Oliver’s stare goes to his feet, he tries to hide how hurt he feels “Like fuck you.” 

“Dude it’s just…” Evan tries to dig himself out, “Before you did swimming an we still did stuff like go to-” 

“Before wasn’t two months before the Olympics.” Oliver defends himself. 

“I’m tired of hearing about the Olympics.” Evan complains, “Who cares.”

“I care.” Oliver is taken a back, “A lot.” 

“Maybe you should care more about your life.” Evan offers, “I’m going to the beach. See you tonight.” 

Oliver is angry. 

He finishes changing and slams his locker shut only to have the door bounce back open and hit him square in the face. He storms out of the locker room and finds Ryan standing by a block in an obnoxiously bright speedo. 

“Those are” Oliver tries to hide his grin, “Really bad… Like horrible.” 

“No way.” Ryan shakes his head and looks down at his suit, “They’re classic.” 

“Yeah no.” Oliver can’t help but laugh as he pulls on his swim cap. “They’re embarrassing.” 

Ryan watches his own name stretch out across the cap as Oliver puts it on and it makes him feel proud. He reaches across to smooth it out over Oliver’s ears. 

“I can do it!” Oliver ducks out of his reach, “That what you’re gonna do in Rotterdam? Come down to fix my cap?” 

“Maybe.” Ryan threatens.

“I can’t with that suit.” Oliver shakes his head and makes his way to a mat to stretch. 

“You’re jealous.” Ryan challenges, “You wish you were as cool as-” 

“Are you gonna be serious?” Oliver snaps and regrets it right away. 

“Hey.” Ryan’s eyes narrow and for a second he’s convinced he’s teleported back to morning practice at pre Athens training camp. “Gator what’s up?” 

“Nothing.” Oliver says flatly, “I just wanna get this over with like be done. Go home. I’m not-” 

“Hey.” Ryan walks over to the swimming block and puts his hand around Oliver’s arm, “If it’s not fun you don’t do it.” 

“That’s not how it works.” Oliver says exasperated.

“It’s how it works with me.” Ryan says firmly. His voice echoes across the empty pool and it makes him feel sad for Oliver. 

Oliver stays quiet. His toes curl around the edge of the pool.

Most of the time Ryan loves picking out the parts of Oliver that are intrinsically Michael. Oliver has the same smile, the same ears and the same laugh. Oliver’s work ethic is almost perfect and he’d been a natural in the pool since they’d started to teach him how to swim. Had been obliterating his age group since he’d gotten over his fear of diving off the block. 

Oliver’s current attitude however is a side of Michael Ryan wished would never appear in either of their kids. Ryan had at least hoped that if it did he could nurture it out of them. 

No such luck. 

“If you’re not having fun Ols maybe it’s-”

“You always had fun?” Oliver challenges, “Every practice you had-” 

“We’re not talking ‘bout me.” Ryan stops him. 

“ It’s not about this.” Oliver gestures towards the pool. 

“Then what is it?” Ryan asks. 

“I can’t tell you.” Oliver admits. 

His answer takes Ryan aback because Oliver’s always told him everything. 

“Yeah you can Gator.” Ryan says seriously, “It can stay here.” 

Oliver just shakes his head. 

“If it’s about Ev-” Ryan risks

“Stop.” Oliver says shortly. “No.” 

Evan is a topic Michael and Ryan have been trying to bring up for months. They’re not clueless or stupid and Oliver and Evan have been too busy trying to sneak off alone to hide properly. 

“Gator we-” Ryan’s been sneaking condoms in Oliver’s bathroom drawers for the past few months. Figuring that it was the most effective and least embarrassing way to make sure Oliver was being safe. 

“No.” Oliver refuses to be a part of the conversation, “It’s not about this. It doesn’t matter.” 

“Okay.” Ryan realizes that somehow he’s made the situation worse, “What are we starting with?” 

“500 free on 120.” Oliver looks at the sheet slipped into a plastic sleeve he has taped on the floor. 

“Do it up.” 

“Did you even stretch?” 

“You telling me how to swim?” Ryan cautions. 

Oliver doesn’t usually train alone but this weekend his is only time home before training camp. He leaves to train with Bob at Meadowbrooks in two days and then he’s off to Spain for training camp. 

Ryan realizes that this weekend is one of the last they get to spend with their kid. Between Rotterdam and Oliver’s potential media tour afterwards they’ll have three weeks max with him before he leaves for Harvard. Ryan tries not to think about it because he can’t imagine Oliver not living at home. Ryan knows Michael and him are overbearing parents but it’s hard to think that they’re sending a seventeen year old to college halfway across the country. 

“You don’t have to swim next to me.” Oliver says quietly, “You can just walk-” 

“You think I can’t do it?” Ryan feigns insult. He knows perfectly well that fourteen years removed from his last Olympic he can’t finish all of Oliver’s practice sets. 

“No.” Oliver defends himself, “ I just… I miss you being my coach.” 

Oliver looks down at his feet, cracks his toes against the tiles and chews his nail while he waits for Ryan to answer. 

“Gator.” Ryan instinctively pulls Oliver’s hand away from his mouth. Oliver had picked up nail biting as a kid and they’d gotten him to stop after he’d given himself a skin infection. 

“It’s just not the same.” Oliver continues, “Don’t tell grandpa.” 

“Yeah cause your grandpa an me have such good talks.” Ryan jokes. 

Oliver doesn’t laugh. He just looks guilty. Ryan looks down at Oliver’s hand and sees that his son’s bitten his nails down to the skin. Most of them look like they’ve been bleeding. 

“You’re killing me bro.” Ryan puts his hand on Oliver’s shoulder, “Why are you sad?” 

Oliver just shrugs. 

Ryan picks up the sheet with Oliver’s sets and scans it. If he’s learned one thing as a dad it’s that meeting silence with silence usually gets him an answer. 

“I don’t like training alone.” Oliver admits.

“You’re not alone.” Ryan answers right away, “I’m here. You want your dad here too? He’s five minutes away.” 

“It’s not-” 

“No Ols.” Ryan insists, “You’re not alone ever. You need us we’re there. You want me in Baltimore I’ll be at the pool every day. Sit with the moms.” 

“The moms always smack talk. They say grandpa fakes my times.” 

“They said the same thing about grandpa.” Ryan remembers.

“About dad?” 

“No,” Ryan gently corrects, “About me. My dad.” 

“Oh.” Oliver feels bad for the mistake, “Sorry I-” 

“It’s okay. You were little.” Ryan understands. It makes him feel better though that the Speed Club his dad ran is where Oliver learned to swim. Where he feels the most comfortable.

Devon and Ryan haven’t changed the Speed Club much. In the quiet of the early afternoon with no one else there but Oliver and him, Ryan can close his eyes and imagine his dad still walking around barking sets and threatening unruly participants with an early exit to the shower. 

“He coached you?” 

“Yeah.” 

“You miss it when he stopped?” 

“No.” Ryan doesn’t hesitate. He laughs thinking of how relieved both his dad and him had been when he’d left for college. “I think I spent more time in the shower than the pool.” 

“I wish you were going with me.” Oliver reveals, “To the Olympics.” 

“We are dude.” Ryan grins at him, “Everyone’s going.”

“You know what I mean.” 

“Anything’s wrong I’ll be there.” Ryan reassures, “Anytime. Promise.” 

They’ve always managed to get passes to be on deck for Oliver’s competitions. But neither of them had been able to get anything from USA Swimming for Rotterdam. The Olympics were going to be the first time Oliver was competing without coming back with them every night. 

“Yeah?” Oliver asks. 

“They made new Olympic rules because of me.” Ryan brags, “I’ll figure it out.”

After their talk, Oliver’s mood changes for the better. While he stretches Ryan puts his shorts and his shirt back on and grabs a spare whistle from Devon’s office. He blows it loudly as soon as he’s out of the office to startle Oliver. 

“Wasting my time?” Ryan shouts in the imitation of Bob he’d perfected in Beijing to make Michael laugh. 

“That’s pretty good.” Oliver gets up from the mats. 

“5 times 100 free for 120.” Ryan says, “Reach forward. From your shoulder.” 

“Yeah.” Oliver drops into the pool. 

“For 120.” Ryan reminds him. “Listen for the whistle.” 

“I want to see both arms reaching.” Ryan specifies, “Don’t baby your shoulder.” 

Ryan spends the next two hours walking beside the pool following Oliver. He forgets that he’s left Michael at home to deal with their guests, the fireworks, the food and an over excited Talan. He pushes every thing out of his mind to focus on Oliver. 

Oliver swims until he’s too busy counting strokes and counting his breaths to think about Evan. After his feet push against the wall a few dozen times he’s somewhere else. 

“You’re done.” 

Oliver stops in the middle of the pool at Ryan’s whistle. 

“Not in the middle of the pool.” Ryan groans, “Finish your lap.” 

“You said I was done.” Oliver argues back. He kicks his way to where Ryan is standing, “Couldn’t wait three seconds?” 

“You want that tone and more laps or you wanna get out?” Ryan offers. 

“Sorry.” Oliver mumbles, pulling himself out of the water. 

“Watch your shoulder.” Ryan warns, “Good job Gator.” 

Ryan fills in Oliver’s time sheet while Oliver does push ups and pull ups and squats. 

“Form.” Ryan calls out when Oliver half asses a push up, “You’ll hurt yourself.” 

“Hate push ups.” Oliver mumbles, finishing his set. “Worse part.” 

*

That night, hours after practice Oliver and Evan sit in the old tree house watching the prep for the fireworks. 

“How are you not helping out?” Evan asks. He takes a sip of one of the beers Brady and Talan had stolen from the coolers by the pool and hidden earlier that afternoon. 

“I retired.” Oliver leans back against Evan’s chest and stretches out his leg. His feet hang out of the tree house door. “Tal and Brady have it covered.” 

“How long are you home for?” 

“Couple of days.” Oliver shrugs and rests his head on Evan’s shoulder, “Then I’m going to Baltimore then Spain for training camp.” 

They’ve been together since Christmas, in secret because neither of them is ready to announce. Talan is the only person to know the truth and he’s been sworn to secrecy.

As much as Oliver loves this, as much as Oliver loves being close to Evan and feeling his chest rise and fall as he breathes he’s unsure that this can go on. Oliver’s suffered through speech after speech from his parents about privacy and behaving himself. Speeches that Oliver knows are well meaning but highly hypocritical. 

Oliver’s not sure he wants to be famous but he knows that if he’s not ready to tell his dads about Evan he’s not ready for faceless people around the world to know. 

“Dude.” Evan interrupts his thoughts, “I’ve been talking for like…”

“Sorry.” 

“What’s wrong with you?” Evan says exasperated, “I’m tryin’ an you’re like” He waves his hand in front of Oliver’s face. 

Oliver knows he should feel sorry but he’s actually annoyed. Evan doesn’t get what’s happening. Evan has nothing to worry about. Evan isn’t swimming, Evan isn’t going to Harvard, Evan isn’t about to be famous, Evan has zero pressure on him. Part of Oliver is so jealous of Evan’s life that he can’t handle it. 

“Stop.” Oliver grabs Evan’s hand and pushes it away from his face. He gets up on his knees and moves to sit next to the entrance to the tree house. 

“You’re weird today.” Evan finishes his beer. 

“We can’t be together.” Oliver says staring at his hands, he wishes he was drinking too “Like I can’t do what I’m gonna do and date you.” 

“What?” Evan looks at him bewildered, “No one knows.” 

“People are gonna be everywhere.” Oliver argues, “Like all over everything and like please dude don’t make this harder.” 

“I’m not even going!” Evan points out, “What you afraid I’m gonna call ESPN and give an all exclusive? You think I’m that dumb?” 

“No I’m just.” Oliver looks at him pained.

“Bein’ a pussy.” Evan snaps. 

“You’re not going.” Oliver pleads, “You don’t get it.” 

“Fuck you.” Evan scoffs. 

“I didn’t-” Oliver tries to defend himself, “You don’t-” 

“I get you’re an asshole.” Evan spits out, “I like you… we-” 

“Then fucking what?” Oliver fights back, “You’re not going to Harvard you’re not-” 

“I could've gotten in.” Evan reminds him, “I didn't want to.” 

Oliver feels horrible because he knows the truth. He knows Evan had decided to follow his parents legacy. 

“It’s a good school.” Evan says angrily and Oliver can tell he’s close to tears, “Fuck you.” 

“Ev.” Oliver tries, suddenly regretting he past minute of his life. Had he said nothing he knows they’d be making out. Knows they hadn’t brought a blanket to the tree house and hidden from everyone just to talk. “I didn’t-”

He stops talking when Evan’s fist connects with his stomach. He’s still doubled over when Evan climbs out of the tree house and back down to the ground. 

*

Ryan is lecturing Talan on the finer points of firework safety when he sees Evan emerge from the darkness of the side of the house that’s not lit by the hundreds of sets of Christmas lights strung up by the pool and run towards the crowd. 

“He’ll know where your brother is.” Ryan tells Tal, he’s been searching for Oliver since the food had been served, “Gimme a sec baby, don’t play with fire.” 

He crosses his own backyard, turning down the beer Devon hands out to him. He gets to Evan by the patio door to the kitchen and drops a hand on his shoulder. 

“You know where Ols is?” He asks, “Thought you guys had left.” 

It’s all Ryan gets out before he notices that Evan is upset. 

“Where’s my mom?” Evan asks, rubbing his hand across his eyes and glancing down at the floor, “I want my mom.” 

“She’s…” Ryan keeps his hand on Evan’s shoulder as he scans their backyard for Elizabeth’s blonde hair, “She’s right there, what’s wrong dude?” 

“Nothing.” Evan is short, “Thanks for the party.” 

Ryan watches curiously as Evan fights his way through the crowd to get to his mother. He watches Elizabeth’s immediate concern and her confusion at whatever Evan tells her. Shortly after he watches them leave the backyard. He’s puzzled and turns back to search across their yard for Oliver once again. 

“Hey.” Devon interrupts, “Our dudes were in the beer fridge.” 

Ryan doesn’t need to ask which of his sons Devon is referring to. 

“Brats.” Ryan shakes his head, switching his focus to look for blond hair instead of brown, “I was just talkin’ to him he has the lighter.” 

“We set off fireworks drunk.” Devon rationalizes. 

“No dude.” Ryan shakes his head, “Mike finds out and the kid’s dead.”

“I got Brady by the pool.” Devon points to his kid before whistling to get his attention. He motions for him to come forward. 

“I got my dork.” Ryan says, waving Talan over too. 

The time it takes to give Brady and Talan a lecture about drinking and stealing and making dumb life decisions forces Ryan to forget about Oliver. By the time Brady and Talan have given up their hidden stash of Bud light cans and sworn that they’d only had one beer each it’s time for them to set off fireworks. 

“Do you know where Oliver is?” Michael asks Ryan, finding him in the backyard as the first firework goes off, “Did he go in?” 

“No.” Ryan drops his arm around Michael’s waist, “I was looking for him before but I can’t-” 

“Evan left? I saw Conor run out-” 

“Yeah.” Ryan scans the dark beach where the fireworks are set up to make sure he can still see Talan’s shadow move across, “Maybe he went to bed.” 

“There he is.” Michael sighs in relief pointing a few feet away where Oliver is sitting alone on a long chair, “Looks happy.” 

“Yeah I know.” Ryan notes Michael’s sarcasm, “Maybe Evan an him had a fight.” 

“He should go to bed.” Michael groans, “He’s gotta be up at five.”

“Let him.” Ryan asks, “He should have fun.”

“Yeah, he looks like he’s having a blast.” Michael answers not taking his eyes off Oliver who’s sitting hugging his knees to his chest, “He tell you why he’s sad?” 

“No.” Ryan admits, “But I think-” 

A yelp of pain from the beach interrupts his words and seconds later the fireworks stop firing off. 

“Fucking Talan.” Michael says exasperated before taking off running. 

“Yeah this was a bad idea.” Ryan says taking off after Michael.

*

Talan’s hand is burnt and parts of his boardshorts are singed. He sits at the kitchen counter grimacing while his aunt carefully cleans and bandages his palm with the first aid kid she’d brought over anticipating a disaster. 

“If you’re gonna be dumb you gotta tough.” Ryan tells his youngest when Tal cries out as his wound gets cleaned. “Breathe baby.” 

“He doesn’t need to go to the ER.” Charlie announces, “But keep it clean you don’t want it to get infected. I’ll wrap it up but take it off tomorrow and let it breathe. If it starts to get hot or get red or hurt-” 

“It hurts.” Talan points out. 

“Yeah you burned your hand with fire.” Michael reminds him, “That’s going to hurt.” 

“It was an accident.” Talan insists, “The thing wasn’t suppose to go an’ I was right where Dad said an I dunno it hurts okay.” 

Talan finishes his speech as Charlie finishes bandaging him up. She says goodbye and leaves with Devon and Brady. They’re the last guests and as soon as they’re out of the house the kitchen door slides open and Oliver slinks into the house. 

“Hey.” Michael gets up from beside Talan and walks over to Oliver, “What happened to you?” 

“Nothing.” Oliver mumbles, “M’tired, m’going to bed.” 

“Stay and talk Ols.” Ryan calls out after him. 

Oliver doesn’t stop. He keeps walking through the kitchen and up the stairs. They hear the bathroom door close and the shower turn on. 

“No he’s mad.” Talan says wincing every time he moves his hand, “He’s not gonna talk.” 

“You know what’s wrong with him?” Ryan enquires. 

“Kinda.” Talan looks guilty, “But like I can’t tell.” 

“Um yeah you can.” Ryan insists, “What’s wrong with your brother.” 

“Like.” Talan looks unsure, “I promised him I wasn’t gonna-” 

“Evan and him are dating.” Ryan guesses and the look on Tal’s face is all the confirmation he needs. 

“Hey.” Talan says offended, “That wasn’t fair.” 

“Did they break up?” 

“I dunno. He’s gonna think I told you.” Talan looks pained, “He’s gonna be mad at me.” 

“You didn’t say anything.” Michael reassures, “Get some ice for your hand and go to bed. We’ll deal with Oliver.” 

“I’m not tired.” Talan dismisses Michael, “I’m gonna go watch-” 

“Go to bed Talan.” Michael insists again, “It’s late.”

“Can I get a snack?” Talan says acting like being sent to bed at one in the morning is a cruel punishment. 

“There’s hot dogs left.” Ryan points to a foil container on the counter. 

“Do you know what they put in those?” Talan wrinkles his nose in disgusts, “Gross.” 

Instead of grabbing the suggested hot dog, Talan grabs a bun from an opened bag, he shoves half of it in his mouth before waving at them.

“Gfight.” He says with his mouthful.

“Chew.” Michael pleads, “Got to bed.” 

“I mean.” Ryan starts once he’s sure Talan’s upstairs and out of earshot, “We knew.” 

“Yeah.” Michael sits down at the table; “I wish he’d told us.” 

“Would you have told your mom?” Ryan asks. 

“It’s different Ry come on.” Michael points out the obvious, “You think they broke up?” 

“Evan ran out of here crying. So…” 

“Go talk to him?” Michael asks.

“You go talk to him.” Ryan counters back, “I tried this morning-” 

“This is what you do.” Michael says, “You’re better at-” 

“It’s the first breakup.” Ryan points out, “No one’s good at this.” 

“Maybe we let him sleep.” Michael offers, “Talk to him tomorrow.”

“Yeah maybe.” Ryan half agrees, “Like he’s tired.”

“D’he have a good practice?” 

“Rough start.” Ryan reveals, “He’s stressed out, d’you see his fingers?” 

“Yeah he’s biting his nails. Bob told me.” Michael says.

“They’re all bleeding. We gotta get him to stop.” 

“I’ve been thinking.” Michael looks up from the table to Ryan, “That we keep him here until training camp.” 

“I thought we’d go to Baltimore.” Ryan offers his own plan. 

They both hear the water in the shower stop. Michael looks at Ryan pleadingly. 

“No.” Ryan shakes his head. “You go.”

Michael tries to think of what to say. Tries to think of what he would have wanted to hear the first time he’d had his heart broken. He’s short on examples of dad speeches. He can replicate his mom’s speeches pretty well by heart but sometimes they don’t feel right. Ryan on the other hand seemingly has never ending ways to talk to their kids to make them feel better; to make them feel loved. 

Instead of Oliver though, he’s met at the top of the stairs by Talan. 

“You can’t.” Talan says, “Because he’ll know I snitched.” 

“You didn’t say anything Tal.” Michael groans, he tries to step over his kid but Talan flings a leg up to stop him. 

“Snitches are bitches.” Talan informs him. 

“Talan.” Michael groans, “Go to bed.” 

“You go to bed.” Talan carefully lowers his leg and he points to the other end of the hallway towards the master bedroom is. “I’ll watch.” 

“I’m going to see Oliver.” 

“Don’t talk about Evan please.” Talan begs holding on to Michael’s sleeve, “He’ll beat me up.”

“He won’t.” Michael tries to reassure but he knows it’s not something he can guarantee because Oliver once tried to punch Talan over a missing toothbrush. 

“Your bedroom’s over there.” Talan points again, “Please he’ll know I talked.”

“Talan.” Michael says exasperated, “You said nothing. How d’you even know.” 

“He told me.” Talan reveals, “I caught them like-” He stops himself.

“Caught them what?” 

“Nothing.” Talan looks at him with wide eyes, “My hand hurts.” 

“Baby.” Michael is tired, “Go get ice.” 

“Come with me to get ice.” Talan conditions. 

“Talan I’m done playing around.” Michael says, “Go.” 

Talan doesn’t move. 

“I won’t talk about Evan.” Michael promises, “I won’t say I know.”

Talan eyes him skeptically for a few seconds before deciding that it’s a good enough promise.

“My hand really hurts.” He whines.

“Then go get ice.” Michael steps up the last step of the stairs, “Your dad’s in the kitchen go.” 

Oliver’s bedroom is empty but the bathroom door is still closed. Michael knocks on it carefully even though there are no locks on the door. With two teenage boys in the house Ryan and him have learned the hard way to not open closed doors before announcing their presence. 

“Ols?” 

“I’m shaving.” Oliver calls out, “I don’t know why dad’s worried. I’m okay.” 

Michael doesn’t bother to ask why Oliver is shaving when he should be asleep. Ryan would keep pressing but Michael knows that if he were on the other side of the door he’d want to be left alone. 

“I just wanted to say goodnight.” He lies, “I’ll be awake if you want to talk.”

“Okay.” Oliver says more annoyed than anything. 

“Your dad and I were thinking of you staying home until Spain.” Michael tries, “Or going down to Baltimore if-” 

“Fine.” Oliver sounds even more annoyed, “Night.” 

Michael hovers by the door for another second before walking away. 

*

In the bathroom, Oliver stares at his reflection in the mirror and at the quickly forming bruise on his stomach. He doesn’t know how he’s going to hide it at practice. 

He regrets every word he said to Evan. He tries calling him again and doesn’t even get the answering message. He sends a text apologizing and another one asking if he can come over and another asking Evan to come over. He blinks back tears and has to fight the urge to punch the wall. 

Oliver hears Talan come up the stairs and walk to his bedroom and he hears Ryan follow him. Once he’s sure everyone is out of the hallway he opens the door to go to bed. 

He finds Michael sitting at his desk chair waiting for him. 

“Dad I’m fine.” Oliver pleads. 

“Bud, we know what happened-” 

“Nothing happened.” Oliver insists he walks by Michael to get to his dresser.

“Woah.” Michael stops him, “What happened to your stomach.” 

“Pool.” Oliver tries to explain.

“Your dad sucker punched you? Come on Oliver.” Michael raises an eyebrow but he quickly puts two and two together. “Was this Evan?”

Oliver doesn’t answer. 

“Your boyfriend shouldn’t hit you.” Michael says dead serious, “Ever.”

“He had a reason.” Oliver mumbles, “He’s not- Don’t tell dad.” 

“Best friend I don’t care.” Michael brings Oliver closer to him to get a better look, “No one ever puts their hands on you got it?” 

Oliver nods. 

Michael wants to say more, wants to talk about Oliver’s swollen eyes and his red nose and the look of total misery on his face. 

“Go to bed.” He tells Oliver instead, “Feel better.”

“Dad?” Oliver calls out once Michael is about to step out of his room. 

“Yeah?” Michael turns around. 

“We broke up.” Oliver’s voice breaks. 

Michael walks back into Oliver’s room and sits down cross-legged beside him on his bed. He doesn’t say anything else but he reaches out to rub Oliver’s back. Michael doesn’t tell him to stop crying and he doesn’t try to convince him that it was for the best. 

“I’m sorry I’m-” Oliver manages to say. 

“No Bud.” Michael doesn’t even let him finish. 

It takes awhile for Oliver to cry himself out and calm down. Michael stays sitting on his bed even after he’s sure Oliver is asleep. He hates that they didn’t see this coming and that he has no way of fixing it. Michael hates watching Oliver hurt this bad because he had definitely promised himself to never let it happen. 

He thinks of what Ryan had said about Oliver having a rough practice and thinks that they can’t let swimming become something that makes Oliver’s life harder. 

When it had been just the two of them in Baltimore Michael had tried to make Oliver’s life easy. To not talk about swimming at home, to let him be a kid when he was away from the pool. Oliver had been laser focused on it though and at times there was nothing Michael could do to get Oliver to stop thinking. 

Oliver always had trouble sleeping and in Baltimore it got worst. He’d fall asleep on the couch every night while they watched television and not be able to fall back asleep when Michael woke him up to go to bed. 

He’d started telling Oliver to go to bed earlier and they’d started watching television in Oliver’s room. It was clear though that Oliver needed to talk things through and so often the television was on mute while Oliver rambled about not being fast enough and not being able to get his kick right. Michael tried to listen as a dad and not as a swimmer. 

Michael leaves Oliver’s room once he starts falling asleep too. He finds Ryan still awake in bed. 

“They broke up.” He confirms. 

“He doesn’t need this.” Ryan sighs, pulling the blankets back on Michael’s side of the bed. 

“Yeah not this close to it.” Michael agrees, “I want to keep him home.” He brings the subject back up again. 

Michael starts to change, he pulls his shirt off and drops it on the floor before the look on Ryan’s face convinces him to pick it up and put it in the hamper. 

“I can get him through practice.” Ryan agrees, ‘I want him home too.” 

“I don’t want him to regret this.” Michael toes off his socks and unbuttons his shorts, “I don’t want him to like-” 

Instead of walking back around the bed, Michael climbs over Ryan to get to his spot. He pulls the blankets over him and sinks back in his pillows exhausted.

“He won’t.” Ryan comforts, “He’ll be okay.” 

“I didn’t know what to say to him.” Michael confesses, “I feel like I had nothing.”

“No.” Ryan reassures, “He told you about Evan. He like…” Ryan stops, “He came out to you.”

“He just said they broke up-” 

“He trusts you… I…” Ryan stops, “You’re a good dad.”

“He woulda told you too.” Michael insists. 

“No.” Ryan shakes his head, “He told you.” 

“I just know-” Michael winces, “How hard it is to break up this close to something big and I don’t want him to go through that. He should be happy I don’t know how to get him back to where he’s happy.” 

Ryan doesn’t answer because he knows he’s the reason Michael can identify with Oliver. He knows Michael’s forgiven him but it kills him to know the pain of it still haunts him. 

“He’s okay Mike.” Ryan reassures, “He knows we got him.” 

“He’s staying home.” Michael decides, “Until Spain. I’ll call Bob in the morning.” 

“I’ll wake up with him to go to the pool.” Ryan groans turning to set his alarm. 

“How do we fix it though?” Michael asks, “Like his feelings.” 

“Buy him shots?” 

“Ry.” 

“I don’t know.” Ryan groans, “Keep his mind off of it?” 

“How?” 

“With more laps?” Ryan tries. 

“No.” 

“Taco night? He likes tacos.” 

“And sneakers.” Michael thinks, “We can have game night tomorrow like-”

“That never ends well.” Ryan reminds him thinking of the last time they’d played monopoly as a family and both Talan and Michael had stormed off in anger. “We can watch a movie.” 

“I wish he didn’t have to go to the pool.” Michael groans. 

“I got it.” Ryan suddenly exclaims, “This is perfect.”

“What?” Michael asks skeptically.

“Jeah dude!” Ryan grins. He grabs Michael’s hand and holds it up to high five himself, “Cancel what you’re doing tomorrow be ready to leave at eight.”

“What?” 

“Eight. Tal’s not going to school.”

“Tal doesn’t have school it’s July.” 

“Jeah!” Ryan says again. 

“Can we like not start with that word anymore?” Michael requests, “Do I get to know what the idea is?” 

“No.” Ryan shakes his head, “I drive. Bring sunscreen and tell Tal to wear sneakers not his flip-flops. Light layers. I’ll pick you up after practice.” 

Michael feels like he used to feel before when Ryan was known for coming up with half thought plans that usually either got himself injured or in trouble. 

“Ry.” Michael grabs his face and turns it towards himself. “Tell me.” 

“Nah.” Ryan is grinning even wider. “You’ll see. Surprise for everyone but Tal’ll probably figure it out. Night.”

Ryan kisses Michael quickly before falling back against his pillow and reaching over to turn off his lamp. 

“Ry.” Michael pleads, reaching over to shake his husband’s arm, “Tell me.” 

“Yo.” Ryan turns back almost annoyed, “I gotta be up to coach in four hours, you get to sleep in. Lemme sleep.” 

“Really?” Michael has to laugh at the level of absurdity his life has just reached, “I’m keeping you from getting sleep before practice?” 

“Yeah.” Ryan replies, “Sleep too dude busy day tomorrow. Love you.” 

Michael is too shocked to answer back but he settles himself down in bed and wraps an arm around Ryan’s waist and rests his head close to Ryan’s shoulder. Ryan presses himself closer and mumbles appreciatively. 

*

Michael sleeps through Ryan waking up and leaving with Oliver for practice. He blinks awake when the dogs start barking like crazy at a passing car. It’s seven thirty, half an hour before Ryan’s plan gets executed into action and Michael’s first thought is that he needs to feed Talan before they leave the house because Talan is a nightmare when he’s hungry. 

Talan is already awake though. Michael finds him on the couch eating pancakes and watching television. 

“Who made you pancakes Tal?” Michael asks, he glances into the kitchen to see if their housekeeper had come back from vacation a week earlier than scheduled. 

“Dad.” Tal answers, “He made them for Oliver and he left some for us. You ready to go? We gotta leave at eight.” 

It amazes Michael how organized Ryan can be when he puts his mind to it. 

“I’m gonna go shower.” Michael says slowly, “Drink some milk.” 

“Gross no.” Talan looks disgusted. “Seriously dad said at eight. It’s like fifteen minutes to that. You gotta be ready it’s-” 

“I got it.” Michael yawns, “I’ll be ready.” 

Michael has time to shower, brush his teeth and get dressed before Tal is screaming from downstairs announcing Ryan’s arrival. 

Michael makes sure all the dogs have water before he grabs the cellphone Ryan forgot on the counter. He locks all the doors and walking to the car where Talan is already arguing with Ryan

“Why don’t I get coffee?” Talan holds up a bottle of juice, “It’s not fair.”

“You don’t need coffee.” Ryan answers, he leans across the car to kiss Michael and hand him a cup. 

“Thanks.” Michael kisses him back ignoring the noises of disgust coming from the back seat of the range rover. 

“Oliver gets coffee.” Talan points out the injustice.

“Oliver was up at five am.” Ryan defends, “He’s just spend three hours swimming. He gets coffee.” 

“How was practice Bud?” Michael turns around to pat Oliver’s knee, trying to make things as easy and normal as possible. 

“Horrible.” Oliver mumbles from under the hoodie he’s using as a blanket. 

“We had um trouble.” Ryan whispers, “He couldn’t count his strokes, he hit the wall with his head a few times. Rough morning.” 

“He hit his head?” Michael whispers, “D’you-” 

“I’m fine.” Oliver cuts in, “I just can’t swim.” 

“I checked him over.” Ryan reassures, “Made him get out until he could focus… We didn’t get through half his sets it’s um.” Ryan suddenly looks unsure about his plan. 

“D’you call grandpa?” Oliver asks, “If I’m not going to Baltimore.”

“Yeah.” Michael lies. “He’s ok with-” 

“When?” Talan challenges, “I didn’t hear you call.”

“I was upstairs.” Michael defends his lie, “It’s fine Oliver. What happened today?” 

“I don’t get what we’re doing.” Oliver says frustrated, “I have to practice tonight I can’t just keep- Dad. It’s-” 

“Important.” Ryan finishes because he’s heard this speech before, “This is important too Gator.” 

“Why?” Oliver groans, “I don’t get why-” 

“Oliver.” Michael cranes his neck to look at him again, “Just trust your dad.” 

Oliver rolls his eyes and takes a sip from his coffee before closing his eyes again. He’s asleep before Ryan’s on the highway and Talan doesn’t stay awake much longer. 

“I can drive.” Michael offers.

“I’m good. You don’t know where we’re going anyways.” Ryan refuses the offer. 

They drive in comfortable silence. Michael props one foot up against the dash and puts one of his hands on Ryan’s thigh. 

“Was he really that bad?” Michael asks sipping his coffee. 

“It was brutal to watch.” Ryan glances in the rearview mirror to make sure Oliver is still asleep before continuing, “He didn’t want to be there. He wasn’t looking where he was going… Who forgets to turn?” Ryan sighs in frustration. 

“He’s okay though?” 

“Yeah.” Ryan glances over to switch lanes, “I got him out the second time he did it and I yelled.”

“You yelled?” 

“Mhhm.” Ryan doesn’t look proud, “Like if you’re not gonna be safe you don’t get to swim and he was-” 

“I’m glad it was you.” Michael says. 

“Maybe he’s not ready.” Ryan breathes, “Maybe he’s too young like if this is gonna wreck him this bad. We gotta like-” 

“Maybe he isn’t.” Michael agrees, “Maybe we need to sit down and-” 

“Hey.” Talan yawns from the back, “Are we going to Disney?” 

“What?” Michael looks back at him.

“This is the exit to Orlando.” Talan says, “We’re going to Disney.” 

*

Oliver doesn’t wake up until Ryan parks the car somewhere three miles away from the theme park entrance. 

“Wake up Bud.” Michael reaches to shake him awake, “We’re here.” 

“Guess where we are!” Talan says excitedly. 

Oliver stretches his arms out, purposefully pushing his hand against Talan’s face. He looks outside the car window and stops when he spots the mickey ear shaped lampposts. 

“Disney World?” He asks puzzled, “D’you bring me to Disney World.” 

“Yeah Gator.” Ryan says unsure. He opens Oliver’s car door and waits for a reaction, “I thought you’d like… Had a rough week… You needed a break.” 

“It’s awesome.” Oliver admits. He stands up out of the car and stands in front of Ryan, “Thanks.” 

The park’s been open for a few hours and the lines are long but both boys are still beyond excited by everything. A couple of rides and an ice cream cone in Oliver laughs along with Talan. 

“He looks better.” Michael notes watching Oliver and Talan debate which ride to go on next, “Good idea.” 

“Just wanted him to be a kid.” Ryan explains, “He’s too grown up.” 

Michael sees Oliver take off running to a nearby store with mouse ears and ridiculous hat and smiles. 

“He’s like five.” Michael laughs. He checks his phone for a second before holding up the screen to Ryan, “I got us rooms so we don’t have to drive back.” 

“It’s not even an hour.” Ryan notes, “I’m good driving.” 

“I just.” Michael watches Oliver try on a baseball cap with a Donald Duck beak instead of a bill, “I want him to have a day off.” 

“Mike.” Ryan wants to think as a parent but can’t help to think as a coach, “He’s gotta get back in the water and not fuck up like he did today or he’s gonna-” 

“No be his dad.” Michael asks. 

“We stay here.” Ryan says slowly, “We drive back tomorrow night. We talk to him when we’re home. It’s his choice.” Ryan laughs when Oliver shows them the hat, “He wants to keep going he goes. It’s too late for us to decide that for him.” 

They wait for an hour to get on the next roller coaster and Ryan spends most of that hour explaining the plot of Star Wars to both their kids. Michael is certain that Ryan has never seen Star Wars so he can’t help but sympathize with the matching looks of confusion on his boys’ faces. 

After Star Wars, they talk about lunch and about the last time they were at Disney World. They talk about places to go on vacation before Harvard and Oliver talks excitedly about his dorm room and his classes. 

Oliver doesn’t say anything when they drive to a hotel instead of going back home. They stop for pizza and wings even though it’s a Saturday and eat while watching a baseball game. Oliver is leaning on Ryan half asleep when they walk back to the hotel. He’s asleep in his bed before they can even come to say goodnight. 

“He won’t quit.” Michael says while he washes his face in the hotel bathroom. He wipes it dry and meets Ryan’s eyes in the mirror.

“Yeah he’s your kid.” Ryan spits out toothpaste. He squeezes Michael’s arm, “He don’t know that word.” 

“I just want to keep him safe.” Michael explains. He walks out of the bathroom and undoes the sheets on their bed because he knows Ryan hates sleeping with them tucked in. 

“Me too.” Ryan agrees, “But I want him to know he didn’t do this for nothing.” 

While Ryan gets changed Michael’s mind wanders back to how much Oliver had talked about Harvard. How excited he was to live in a dorm and not at home. 

“Hey.” Ryan says softly, “What’s the matter?” 

“Our dudes are okay.” Ryan climbs on the bed and straddles Michael over the blankets, “They’re safe. You’re doing good.” 

“Harvard’s fucking far away.” Michael’s voice breaks. “Why d’we say yes?” 

“Because we suck.” Ryan cups Michael’s face in his hand “It’ll be okay. People send their kids to college all the time.”

“Not us.” Michael turns his face to nuzzle against Ryan’s palm, “Not our dudes.” 

“MP.” Ryan strokes his hair with his free hand, “He’s good.” 

Michael keeps his face hidden against Ryan’s hand but he knows he’s not doing anything to hide his tears. 

“Shhh babe.” Ryan guides Michael’s head to rest against him, “He knows you got him. He’s gonna be okay.” 

Ryan kisses Michael’s hair but waits for him to calm down. 

“He’ll miss us.” Ryan reminds him, “He’ll come home.” 

Michael nods against Ryan’s shoulder before lifting his head up and wiping his eyes dry. 

“We’ll have Tal.” Ryan reminds him, “His life’s going to be hell. Two dads one kid he’s not gonna get away with anything.” 

His statement makes Michael laugh. 

“You okay?” Ryan asks, bending down to kiss him. 

“Yeah.” Michael nods. 

“You’re gonna be super proud.” Ryan kisses again, “They’ll do side by side shots of you and Debs cheering.”

“You’re a punk.” 

“We’ll have Harvard dad t-shirts. We like…” Ryan laughs, “Won’t fit in on parents weekend… You’re gonna have to do all the talking cause they won’t wanna.” 

“No.” Michael slips a hand behind Ryan’s neck and kisses him hard, “You got him there too you talk as much as me. I don’t care.” 

“I won’t say jeah.” Ryan promises, “Not at Harvard.” 

“I’ll say it then.” Michael decides, “Jeah Harvard.”

“I love you.” Ryan shakes his head grinning. 

“Me too.” Michael massages the back of Ryan’s neck, “You gotta be exhausted.” 

“Yeah.” Ryan nods reluctantly, “I’m like… not made for 6am practice anymore.” 

Instead of letting Ryan go though, Michael moves his hands to massage his shoulders while he thinks. 

“Tell me.” Ryan requests after a minute. 

“If he wants to drop out.” Michael starts.

“He won’t.” Ryan insists, “Don’t make plans.” 

“If he-” 

“Mike.” Ryan rolls back on his side of the bed, “He’s you.” Ryan punches the hotel pillow trying to beat it into submission. 

“He’s kinda you too.” Michael reminds him.

“So he’s gonna swim.” Ryan’s answer doesn’t change, “And we’re gonna cheer.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end guys.

**Rotterdam, Day 9**

 

Oliver trudges through practice. He shares a lane with the youngest member of the Australian swim team. He tests out his shoulder and the pain from the previous day is mostly gone. Whenever he looks up from the water he sees Bob walking the deck, pacing beside him. 

He sleeps through most of his massage afterwards and is barely awake when, still under Bob’s watchful eye, the physiotherapist guides him through stretches. It’s his day off but by the time he’s ready to leave the pool it’s early afternoon. 

“Good job Champ.” Bob says more cautious than usual, reverting back to the nickname he’d used for him as a baby. “Get changed and we’ll head back to get lunch.” 

Bob had spent most of the previous night walking on eggshells. He was more than aware Oliver was close to quitting. He’d tried to keep himself from going over the mistakes he could have made coaching Oliver. He’d sat with Oliver in the mostly empty athlete cafeteria and watched him eat before sending him off to bed. 

Bob had spent most of the previous night convincing himself that keeping Oliver in the village was the best decision. In the hospital earlier that night, Oliver had chosen to go to the hotel with his parents. Before Bob had told him leaving the village might disqualify him from his race Oliver had decided not to go back with him. 

In the middle of the night Bob can’t help but wonder if bringing Oliver back had been the best decision.

Bob had been sure Oliver would wake up and ask to go home. However, Oliver had woken up ready to go to practice and Bob had shelved his worries. He refused to let Oliver see any of his doubt. 

“You call me Phelps.” Oliver mumbles as he falls in step with Bob. “At the pool.” 

Bob never slips. He separates Oliver, his grandson from Oliver, the swimmer perfectly well but he can’t help it now that Oliver is having a tough time. 

“I think it’s okay.” Bob dismisses. He drops his hand on Oliver’s good shoulder and squeezes it while they walk towards the locker room. 

“Yeah.” Oliver nods, “It’s okay.” 

“You feel good?” Bob asks hoping to hear that Oliver’s feeling on top of his game, like he’s somehow managed to dig deep and find one last unused energy reserve. 

“No.” Oliver answers honestly. He doesn’t elaborate.

“You’re allowed to have bad days at the Olympics.” Bob tells him, “It’s okay.” 

 

**Baltimore, June 2014**

 

“It’s okay.” Bob says to the whimpering baby. He locks the door of Michael’s old bedroom and takes a step towards the crib, “I got you Champ.” 

The fighting in the stairs is getting louder and Bob reaches into the crib to pick up Oliver. Once Oliver’s in his arms, Bob reaches down again to grab the light yellow baby blanket printed with tiny cartoon alligators. He drapes it over Oliver’s back, tucking it in beside Oliver’s face.

Bob had never thought of being a grandfather but Oliver had changed that. Gowned up and with masks on in the NICU both him and Debbie had been allowed to reach into the incubator and stroke Oliver’s tiny leg with one finger. A few days later, they’d been able to hold him and once Oliver had reached out to grab his finger Bob had been sold. 

When Michael and Ryan had announced they were expecting a baby, the news had been met with reservation. No one pretended to think that having a baby a few months after getting back together was a good idea. It was hard to accept that things between them could be okay after such a volatile breakup. 

Oliver’s birth had smoothed things over and for the first few months of his life things between Michael and Ryan had gone well. 

From what Bob and Debbie and the rest of Michael’s family understood things had gone bad when Ryan had moved back to Florida for training and Michael had refused to follow him. Even though they’d had an agreement to move back to Florida, Michael had decided to keep Oliver in Baltimore to be closer to the doctors who had treated him as a newborn. 

Everyone knew they were fighting, everyone knew things were bad but no one had witnessed it until right then. 

“YOU’RE NOT FUCKING TAKING HIM TO FLORIDA RYAN.” Michael yells and Bob can tell he’s probably the one closest to the top of the stairs. 

“Shhh.” Bob soothes when Oliver lets out a small cry. “It’s okay champ.” 

Oliver had started out his life looking like every other non-descript newborn. Then he’d slowly morphed into a mini version of Michael. With long limbs and more brown hair than he should have. He’d fought hard in the NICU to earn his nickname and Bob knows a gold medal hangs from one of the post of Oliver’s crib back at Michael’s place. 

“I DON’T WANNA TAKE HIM TO FLORIDA.” Ryan screams, “I WANT YOU AND HIM TO COME TO FLORIDA. LIKE YOU WERE GONNA. WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS MIKE?!” 

“Ba.” Oliver says concerned. 

“HE’S MY KID TOO.” Ryan yells again and steps up a few more stairs, “YOU CAN’T DECIDE HE’S NOT GOING-”

“YOU LEAVE WITH HIM AND I CALL THE COPS FOR KIDNAPING.” 

“I’M HIS DAD. I’M YOUR HUSBAND. I’M-” 

Michael had brought Oliver over the night before. He’d told a story about needing a night off and going to a friend’s birthday party. It was only through twitter that both Bob and Debbie had learned that Ryan was on his way home from Florida. Michael had brought Oliver over to keep him from Ryan. 

Ryan had shown up to see Oliver early in the morning and Michael had been five minutes behind him. They’d started fighting when Ryan had wanted to take Oliver out and Michael had refused. 

“HOW ARE YOU HIS DAD YOU’RE NEVER FUCKING HERE HE DOESN’T KNOW WHO YOU ARE.” 

“CAUSE YOU WON’T LEMME SEE HIM. YOU WON’T FUCKING MOVE.” 

Both of their voices sound equally as loud now, Bob thinks of Debbie downstairs in the kitchen ready to call the cops. Ryan had a black eye. 

Bob had snuck past both Michael and Ryan to get into the nursery before they’d started fighting in the stairs. His guess that they would both head to the nursery had been right. Bob knows there’s no other way out of the room than the locked door but at least for the moment Oliver is safe. 

“BECAUSE YOU LEFT. YOU LEFT HIM.” Michael reproaches. 

“WE HAD A DEAL.” Ryan pleads, “YOU WON’T COME TO FLORIDA WE HAVE A HOUSE MIKE FUCK.” 

If this is how Michael and Ryan fight in front of people Bob is afraid of what it’s like when they’re home by themselves. It’s frightening to think of what Oliver might have been witness to. 

“BECAUSE YOU WON’T LEMME HAVE HIM. I SHOULD CALL YOU ON KIDNAPING.” 

“You’re okay.” Bob reminds Oliver walking away from the door. 

 

**Rotterdam, Day 9**

 

“Did my dad have bad days?” 

Oliver’s question takes Bob out of his daydream. He shakes his head to get rid of the sixteen-year-old memory. To forget how Hilary had left the house with Oliver while Michael yelled out threats. To remember that Ryan and Michael had worked things out. That Oliver had always been safe. 

“Yes.” Bob answers. “He did.” 

“What d’he do?” Oliver asks again. 

“I don’t know.” Bob admits, “Probably talked to Lo- your dad.”

Bob realizes too late that this advice is useless because Oliver doesn’t have a Ryan here. That when left on alone at dinner, Oliver had chosen to sit with athletes from another country instead of with the team. 

“How’s your shoulder?” Bob changes the subject, “I have your sling if-” 

“It’ll hold up.” Oliver reassures, “I’m gonna go change. I’m cold.” 

“I’ll wait here.” Bob tells him, “Rest of the day’s yours.” 

Ten minutes later, Bob is impatiently checking his watch every ten seconds. All the other swimmers have come out of the locker room but Oliver is still nowhere to be seen. The team van leaves without them. 

“What’s taking so long Oliver?” Bob storms into the locker room, he becomes instantly more aggravated once he sees that Oliver is still in his jammers. “How are you not changed? Do you need help?” 

Oliver doesn’t even bother answering. He points to the pile of soggy clothes in a puddle on the floor. 

“Are those yours?” Bob asks. 

“What d’you think?” Oliver snaps. 

“You didn’t do that.” Bob states, his aggravation quickly being replaced with anger that is in no way directed at his grandson. 

“Everything’s wet.” Oliver answers. He grabs at a sock and pulls it away from the rest of the pile, “I got nothing else.” 

Bob’s list of suspects is short. Oliver’s usually a charismatic kid, he’d had no problems making friends when he’d started swimming in Baltimore and before Nationals he’d always found people to talk to at meets and competitions; kids who didn’t care about the names on his swim cap. 

Training camp had been rough, Oliver had been too young to do most things and there was no one else close to his age. No matter what anyone did Oliver didn’t seem to fit in, Oliver didn’t have any friends. Bob had never imagined though that other swimmers would go out of their way to bully him.

“Oliver-” 

“I’m done.” Oliver says quietly. “Call my dad please.” 

“Oliver.” Bob tries to be firm, “You’re not quitting.” 

“You’re gonna have a tough time makin’ me swim.” 

“Oliver you can’t quit.”

“I can.” Oliver insists, “My dad said I could go home. I need a phone.” 

“When your dad was racing he-” Bob remembers the times in Beijing he’d thought Michael wasn’t going to make it through. He tries to remember what he’d said then. 

Michael had been motivated by being excluded and by being the topic of trash talk. Bob could tape news articles of it to his locker to ensure faster times and more dedication to practice. 

Oliver isn’t like that. Oliver craves friends and acceptance; people’s doubts and people’s hate make him insecure. They keep him up at night. It’s a part of Oliver that isn’t Michael at all. It’s a part of Oliver Bob can’t seem to understand. 

“I’m not my dad.” Oliver interrupts. “I’m me and I quit. I wanna talk to my dad.” 

Bob watches Oliver wring out his podium jacket. 

“What they want to do is get you to quit.” 

“Then it worked.” Oliver digs through the pile of wet clothes and keeps separating individual pieces from each other. “My Dad said I could go home.” 

Bob knows Oliver is referring to Ryan because Michael would have just been Dad. 

“You can’t let them win.” Bob tries, “Oliver I’m not letting you quit-” 

“Well I’m… I’m done I don’t wanna go back to the village an have ‘em see me like this.” Oliver wipes his face with the back of his hand, “I’m tired of crying fuck I don’t cry.” 

If it was any other swimmer Bob would have had an answer but watching Oliver hurt he can’t separate the athlete from his grandson. He has a hard time coming up with reasons why Oliver can’t just go home. 

“You worked too hard Ols.” Bob tries. 

“An where am I?” Oliver challenges, “What’s this doing for me?” 

“Two weeks from now.” Bob says, “You want to be the guy with nine gold medals or do you want to be the guy who went home after eight because someone was mean to him.” 

“MY CLOTHES-” 

“He qualified behind you.” Bob tries; he wishes he had a sweater to offer Oliver “He’s scared of you.” 

“Why this race then?” Oliver turns away from his clothes, “Nine is when he fucking-” 

“Because you didn’t qualify first.” Bob points out, “Because he knows he’s got a shot.”

“It’s not my best race.” Oliver argues, “I didn’t wanna swim it but Dad-” 

“This is exactly what they wanted.” Bob cuts him off, “You can win that race if you get your head on straight. Stop crying.” 

Oliver doesn’t reply. He just returns to shoving soaking wet clothes into his duffel. His skin breaks out in goose bumps and he does his best to ignore Bob’s presence. 

Before Oliver is done packing his duffel the Australian swimmer who’d shared a lane with him earlier walks over with a pile of folded clothes. 

“Here Mate.” The Australian swimmer hands them to him, “It’s our team but it’s dry.” 

“Thanks.” Oliver reaches out for the clothes without looking, “Thanks dude.” 

The Australian swimmer doesn’t hang around he leaves the clothes and walks away without exchanging more words. 

“Put it on Ols.” 

“I will. Just.” Oliver motions for Bob to leave. 

“I’ll be outside.” Bob says, stepping back to give Oliver privacy, “Five minutes. Get dressed.” 

Oliver walks out of the locker room dressed head to toe in Australian team gear a few minutes later. He drags his swim bag on the floor behind him. 

“Let’s hitch a ride.” Bob takes his swim bag from him, “You got your own van.” 

Oliver is quiet for the ride back to the village and doesn’t start talking when they get there. 

“Put your clothes in the dryer.” Bob says, walking with him towards the cluster of buildings that house the team, “Hang up your jammers they don’t-”

“I know.” Oliver snaps, “I’m going to sleep.” 

“You have to eat.” Bob reminds him, “Meet me back here in.” 

“I want to call my dads.” Oliver says again, “My phone’s not- it’s wet I need-” 

“You need-” Bob makes the executive choice to keep Oliver on track to swim tomorrow, “To get your clothes in the dryer, to change and to eat.” 

“I want.” Oliver balls his fists, “To call my dad.” 

“Not now.” Bob stays firm, “Dryer. Clothes-” 

“My phone doesn’t work.” Oliver’s voice picks up, “I need to use…” 

“I know your dads Oliver.” Bob reminds him, “You call them with that voice and that story and you’re on your way home-” 

“THAT’S WHAT I WANT.” Oliver hollers, “LEMME CALL.” 

“No. Get your clothes in the dryer. Get changed. Come eat. Then you can-” 

Bob watches Oliver’s eyes narrow and sees him square his shoulders. Bob knows he’s pushed him to his limits, knows he’s breaking all the rules Ryan and Michael have made. 

Bob knows Oliver is also out of options. 

“I eat. Then I call my dads. Then I go home.” Oliver says, “I’m done.” 

Bob chooses not to answer. He lets Oliver leave and waits for him in the common area of the floor. 

In the cafeteria, Bob steers Oliver away from the few members of the swimming team still eating lunch. He lets Oliver choose what he wanted to eat without making comments. Oliver doesn’t talk until he’s started on his second piece of pizza. 

“You did this with Dad?” 

"Four times." 

"Was it better with him?" Oliver breaks off a piece of crust and dips it into some ranch dressing on the side of his plate

“I knew your dad when he was eleven. I’ve known you since you were a day old.” Bob answers. 

Bob doesn’t try to elaborate; he wants to keep Oliver as happy as possible to keep him from thinking of going home, to keep him from wanting to quit. He knows Oliver is homesick and he knows he’s a poor substitute for Oliver’s parents. He knows Oliver just has one more day to tough out. 

Oliver eats the rest of the crust off his third slice of pizza. It’s been a struggle getting him to eat enough all week.

“I don’t wanna lose tomorrow.” Oliver admits

“Then don’t lose Oliver.” Bob says simply, “You’re better than everyone else swimming if you just-” 

“Swim I know.” 

“Then you’re home.” Bob reminds him, “Then you’re done.” 

“It’s harder than I thought.” Oliver admits, “I didn’t think they’d like…” 

“Don’t worry about them.” Bob says, “Eat. You’re not eating enough.” 

As Oliver finishes eating, they talk about everything that isn’t swimming. Oliver talks about the classes he’s thinking of taking at Harvard and about going to New York with Michael in two days. He yawns through his last few sentences. 

“Go nap.” Bob says, “I’ll walk you up.” 

“No I wanna call my dads.” Oliver says, “You said I could.” 

“Oliver.” Bob says firmly, “You’re not going home, you’re not quitting it’s not an-” 

“I want it to be an option.” Oliver doesn’t have the energy to get mad, “I just wanna talk to dad. He’ll get it.” 

Bob knows too well that Michael will get it and that Michael will do everything in his power to make things okay for Oliver. Michael, who’d risked his marriage over Oliver, would come to his son’s rescue without asking questions. 

Bob doesn’t even know if Oliver means Michael. Both boys use the name Dad interchangeably sometimes slipping the word “other” before the name to distinguish. It’s a wild guess for which parent they actually want. Bob knows Oliver might want to talk to Ryan because Ryan has a personal disregard for rules that becomes stronger when his kids are involved. Bob knows Ryan had wanted him gone, he knows ryan doesn’t fully trust him and right now Bob knows Ryan wouldn’t approve of the way he’s handling Oliver. 

“Go put your tray away.” Bob wishes there wasn’t as much food left on it, he makes a mental note to get Oliver to eat again before dinner, “Then we can get your dad on the phone.” 

Oliver balances the tray with his good hand and walks across the crowded cafeteria to a place where a volunteer is gathering them up. He makes it halfway through before he trips over someone’s foot and goes tumbling down, his tray skittering across the floor. 

“Watch where you’re going Phelps.” Drew says in mock concern, stepping closer “You don’t want to hurt your shoulder before tomorrow.” 

Oliver is pissed. He knows it wasn’t an accident. He scrambles to his feet quickly and takes a step towards Drew. 

“Fuck you.” He says through gritted teeth. He kicks a spilled bowl of ranch dressing towards Drew. “You can-” 

“We saw your clothes were all wet.” Drew laughs. “Who’d hate you that much?” Drew grabs hold of the sleeve of Oliver’s shirt.

“Want my clothes?” Oliver pulls at the hem of his shirt, “Want a fucking souvenir of the guy who kicked your ass? You wanna be me and you can’t. Your dad wanted to be my dad and he-” 

“I didn’t use my dad to get here.” Drew snaps pushing Oliver’s shoulders back, “You’re here cause of them not cause of what you’ve done. It’s so NBC can-” 

“Watch me win medals for assholes who can’t swim fast enough.” Oliver snaps, he throws his shoulder forward to push against Drew. “Fuck you.”

“What are you gonna do?” Drew taunts, “Get your daddy to-” 

“He beat your dad and I beat you.” Oliver tries to take a step back because he knows he’s close to losing his cool, “No one’s gonna remember your name -” 

“My dad’s not a fucking fag.” Drew sneers, “You suck dick too?” 

Oliver automatically swings back to punch but a second later Bob is in front of him pushing him away. 

“What’s your problem Oliver?” Bob pushes him forward away from the middle of the room, “What do you think was gonna happen if you punched him?”

“He tripped me!” Oliver struggles against Bob’s grip, “He said I was- HE PUSHED ME.” 

“It doesn’t matter Oliver!” Bob says annoyed, “You want to get sent home?” 

“Maybe.” Oliver admits, “Maybe I don’t care.” 

“Don’t be stupid Oliver.” Bob snaps, pulling Oliver into an empty elevator. “You care.” 

“I’m pissed!” Oliver says once the doors are closed and Bob lets go of his shirt, “I’m done with this- I-” 

“I know you’re pissed Oliver. I’m mad too but you gotta let your swimming speak for you. You can’t be letting them throw you off like-”

"So they just get to trip me and treat me like shit when I busted my ass to be here and-”

"Then that's what you keep doing! No one here can swim better or faster and that's why they're bothering you. They're trying to hurt you in other ways, don't let them. We have a goal here don't we?"

Nine medals had been a dream, qualifying for nine races had been a ridiculously high target to hit but Bob had put it out the open for Oliver to try because Oliver needed a challenge. 

"Yeah but-"

"No but, that's what you came here to do. If they want to beat you, you make them do it in the pool! You're better than a cafeteria fight!"

“He called my dads-” 

“Your dad didn’t let that bother him.” Bob says, “You shouldn’t either.” 

“I’m tired. ” 

Bob just shakes his head and pulls Oliver in for a hug. 

“I want to go home.” Oliver repeats, “I’m done.” 

Bob knows this is probably the end. In Beijing he’d been able to get Michael to keep going but Oliver is a different species. 

“Okay champ.” Bob agrees. On top of Oliver reaching his breaking point, Bob understands that after a violent confrontation Oliver can’t stay in the village. At this point keeping Oliver here isn’t safe, “Pack your things, let’s go.” 

 

**Rotterdam, Day ten, 2am**

In the middle of the night, Michael hadn’t been worried about Oliver. As soon as he recognizes his oldest son’s voice everything comes crashing back down. 

Ryan’s legs are still intertwined in his and one of Ryan’s arms is thrown across Michael’s chest. Michael lifts up Ryan’s arm and places it back over the pillow. He makes sure the blankets are still over Ryan. 

"Dad?” Oliver whispers again, “I know it's late but-"

“I’m here.” Michael rolls out of bed careful to not wake up Ryan, he grabs his sweat pants and his shirt on his way out of the room. He watches Ryan turn on his stomach and stretch out in the new empty space on the bed. “Are you okay Ols? What’s wrong?” 

“Come talk to me?” Oliver asks unsure, “Come here… I’m-” 

“Oliver.” Michael closes the bedroom door behind him and glances at the time on the glow in the dark timex watch Talan had left on the counter, “It’s 2 in the morning. They won’t let me into the village-” 

Michael starts to think before Oliver can reply. He wonders if being Michael Phelps can get him into the athlete’s village. He wonders if an exception can be made if Oliver really does want to go home, they can’t exactly hold an athlete hostage if they want to leave. 

Michael wonders if Ryan can still climb walls. 

“No I’m downstairs.” Oliver says, “In grandma’s room.” 

“You’re where?” Michael stops short. He lets go of his credentials and pushes hair off his face. He glances in the boys’ bedroom to make sure Talan is still sleeping while he waits for an answer. He can’t understand why Oliver is in the same hotel as them but not sleeping in the second empty bed. 

“In the hallway.” Oliver specifies, “Grandpa snores I can’t sleep. I took his phone.” 

“Did Bo-Grandpa tell you to not call us?” 

“Yeah.” Oliver admits, “I didn’t know what room you were in so… I’m suppose to be sleeping.” 

“I’ll be there in a minute.” Michael doesn’t bother to ask any other questions. 

“Just you.” Oliver asks, “Please dad.” 

“I’m on my way Oliver.” Michael reassures walking out of their room. He doesn’t stop to think to leave a note for Ryan. “I’m at the elevators.” 

“Thanks.” Oliver says, “I’m sorry it’s late.” 

“Don’t worry.” Michael doesn’t have to wait long before the elevator doors open. He presses the fifth floor button and waits, “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah.” Oliver answers, “I’m good.” 

“I’m almost there.” Michael watches the floor number countdown. The elevator dings when it gets to the fifth floor and Michael squeezes out as soon as the doors are open wide enough to let him through. 

Oliver is pacing the hallway, the phone still up to his ear. He glances up when he hears the elevator doors open. 

“Hey Bud.” Michael hangs up and crosses the remaining distance in a few easy steps.

Oliver looks worn out. He’s skinnier then he had been two week ago and Michael can see worry lines etched on his forehead. Oliver walks ten feet away from Michael before turning back and walking towards him. He does this a few times before he speaks.

"I'm tired dad." Oliver stops walking and slumps his shoulders. 

"I know Bud.” Michael empathizes. He reaches for Oliver’s arm to stop him and catches his wrist, “We’re really proud-”

“No.” Oliver shrugs off the comment. He takes two steps away from Michael to start pacing again.

“Hey. Stop.” Michael grabs Oliver by the side to still him. “Come here.” 

Oliver stops walking and lets Michael pull him into a hug. He drops his forehead against Michael’s shoulders and leans most of his weight against him. 

“I don’t know.” Oliver says against Michael’s shirt.

Michael has a hundred questions. He wants to know why Oliver isn’t in the village, how long he’s been in the same hotel and why no one called. Mostly though he wants to know if Oliver’s okay. He wishes he’d brought Ryan with him. 

"I'm here Bud,” Michael rubs Oliver’s back, “You're okay. Dad's here."

Oliver doesn’t say anything but he does let himself be held. 

Michael knows there’s no way he’s letting Oliver go back in the room. Oliver needs to come back with them, Oliver needs ot be sleeping in the empty bed across the room from Talan. Michael needs to know that Oliver is okay. Michael needs to talk to Ryan. He can’t help but regret letting Oliver go back with Bob, can’t help but think that maybe Ryan had been right. 

“Come on.” Michael puts his arm around Oliver’s shoulders, “We can talk in our room.” 

“No.” Oliver shakes his head. “If I go I won’t wanna come back.” 

“You don’t have to come back.” Michael explains. 

“Yeah I do.” Oliver insists, “If I wanna race.” 

There are times when both his boys speak exactly like Ryan and Michael wishes he could wrap his mind around their half spoken thoughts. He figures that after almost thirty years of practice he would have found a way to fill in the gaps but it still leaves him clueless. 

“You’re still racing?” Michael asks perplexed.

“I think so.” Oliver says half unsure, “Grandpa says.” 

The only logical explanation for Oliver not being in the village had been that he’d dropped his last race. It’s what Michael had assumed the second he’d found out Oliver was in the same hotel. 

“What happened Ols?” Michael needs answers, “Why aren’t you in the village?” 

“Cause…” Oliver hesitates and starts pacing again, “I got in a fight.” 

“With who?” 

“Drew.” Oliver admits, “He tripped me an I… almost hit him so I’m here cause they don’t want us there together. I’m not suppose to be calling you Grandpa said… But I can’t sleep and I don’t know.” 

“Oliver.” Michael knows he should be angry but he can’t bring himself to chastise Oliver when Oliver looks this worn out, “Why are you fighting?” 

“I gave up everything for this.” Oliver says bitterly, “Stuff you don’t even know about and they’re sayin’ I don’t deserve to be here.” 

“No one deserves to be here more than you.” Michael says honestly, he reaches to get Oliver to stop pacing again “Stop walking come on sit.” 

Oliver lets Michael stop him but he doesn’t move to sit. He brings his fingers to his mouth and bites at his index finger. 

“Stop biting your nails it’s going to get infected.” Michael lets go of Oliver’s side to grab his hand away from his mouth. 

Michael tries to remember how he used to get rid of his nervous energy before races but he knows he wouldn’t have been awake at 2am pacing hallways. He can’t think of a way to help Oliver calm down. The only idea that pops into his head is Ryan; Ryan used to calm him down. 

“My hands hurt.” Oliver admits. He splays out his hands in front of him and looks down at his fingertips. The nails have been bitten down to the skin and all of them are inflamed. Most of his cuticles are scabbed over. 

“It’s just a race Oliver.” Michael reminds him, “Then you’re back with us.” 

Michael is tired of his child being public propriety. He’s tired of having to watch Oliver behave like an adult, tired of Oliver having to shoulder more than a seventeen year old’s share of responsibilities. He wants to bring Oliver back and let Oliver be a kid. He wants to give Oliver the sleeping pills he’s not allowed to take during competitions and let him sleep. He wants to make things okay. It’s almost physically painful that he has another twelve hours to go before he can do any of those things. 

Oliver nods but doesn’t answer or move away. He leans his head against Michael again. 

“One more race and you can go back to sharing a room with Tal.” Michael rubs Oliver’s back, “And eat pizza and-” 

“Sleep.” Oliver mumbles. 

“Whatever you want.” Michael agrees. “If you want to go home, we go right now. We won't think any less of you; we won't let anyone interview you. If you’re done Ols... You’re done. You’ll be on a jet before anyone else wakes up. If we have to leave straight to the airport right now and call your dad on the way we’ll do it.” He offers. 

“I gotta race.” Oliver dismisses the idea, “I’m racing, like I can’t-”

“I don’t want you to worry.” Michael runs his thumb over the worry lines on Oliver’s forehead. He’s pretty sure he’s never told anyone not to worry before an Olympic race. 

Oliver scoffs at the idea. 

“Are you sleeping okay?” Michael asks even though he knows it’s almost two weeks too late to make anything better. 

“No.” Oliver doesn’t even try to lie, “I can’t.” 

“Come back to our room.” Michael offers again. He hates that Oliver looks older.

“I gotta stay here.” Oliver insists. 

“You don’t have to do anything Oliver.” Michael doesn’t want to teach Oliver that it’s okay to quit but he does want to make sure he’s okay and right now Oliver looks like the farthest thing from okay. “You’re more important than swimming. What do you want?” 

"I don't wanna quit." Oliver mutters, he finally walks towards the wall and slinks down to the floor hugging his knees to his chest. 

“Then go to bed.” Michael sits down beside his son, “You have to sleep.”

“I can’t sleep.” Oliver explains. 

“Do you want your dad?” Michael offers Ryan because he feels like he’s not getting anywhere. He knows Ryan would have Oliver going back to bed in under a minute. 

“No.” Oliver shakes his head. “I wanna…” He hesitates. 

“You want to what?” Michael jumps in willing to provide anything Oliver requests. 

“I wanna talk to Michael Phelps.” Oliver says. 

“Uh…” Michael looks at his son confused, “Usually you call me dad but-”

“No not like.” Oliver sighs in frustration, “Not my dad.” 

“The other Michael Phelps?” Michael almost reaches over to check Oliver for a fever. 

“Like you in Beijing.” Oliver says, “I wanna talk to him.” 

Michael suddenly understands. 

“You as like a swimmer not as my dad.” Oliver pleads, “Forget for like thirty seconds.” 

Michael feels guilty. He’d never thought Oliver would need this. In his mind being a good dad had meant putting swimming second. He’d given Oliver advice on his turns and his kicks when he’d asked for it but had never thought to talk to Oliver about what it had been like to shoulder the responsibility of winning eight gold medals. 

All week, Michael’s been listening to countless announcers, news reports and hosts talk about how Oliver is the next Michael Phelps, how he’s doing something no one else has ever done and Michael had never thought that maybe Oliver would need to talk to the only other person who knew what it felt like. Michael had tried so hard to just be a dad that he’d forgotten to be the greatest Olympian of all times. 

“Last time I was Michael Phelps it didn’t work out so well for us.” Michael cautions thinking back to team trials. 

“You’re the only one that gets this.” Oliver pleads, “Like tell me how I’m gonna go there tomorrow and just not… I dunno if I can do nine it’s-”

“Beijing was really hard.” Michael says, trying to think of Oliver as one of the faceless swimmers in the innumerable clinics he’d done since then, “It was a lot of fun and it was a lot of work me and Bo- your grandpa put in. I worked really hard and I gave up-”

“You got not idea what I gave up for this” Oliver interrupts. He laces his hands behind his head and the next part is almost inaudible, “Ev an me...” 

“I gave up your dad once Bud,” Michael says slipping back into being a dad, “I know how hard it is.”

“Was it worth it?” Oliver asks, “All you gave up like after was it worth-” 

“In Beijing yeah it was.” Michael says, “But it took awhile to get what I did. You can’t see it right now Ols but in a few weeks you’ll see what you did it’ll sink in.” 

“It was worth giving up dad?” Oliver turns to look at him bewildered, “Really?!” 

“That wasn’t Beijing.” Michael brushes off, “We’re talking about Beijing.” 

Oliver sighs and bites his lip while he thinks.

“Did you have a good time?” Oliver asks, “Like did people make you feel bad cause you were good or-” 

“I had a really good team in Beijing.” Michael admits guiltily, “Your dad an me are still friends with most of them… it was good. It’s not like that for you right?” 

“Yeah no.” Oliver laughs bitterly, “I get tripped in the cafeteria and they put my clothes in shower.” 

“They put your clothes in the showers?” Michael says outraged, “You never said.” 

“Michael Phelps.” Oliver reminds him, “Not my dad.” 

“Well your dad is Michael Phelps.” Michael points out, “And he’s pissed so we’re gonna come back to that.” 

“I know he’s my dad.” Oliver points out, “Not gonna forget it.” 

“They’re not picking on you because of you they’re picking on you because of me.” Michael tries to comfort. 

“No.” Oliver disagrees, “They’re picking on me ‘cause I’m fast.”

“Then what do you have to do?” 

“Win.” Oliver answers, “But I dunno how I’m gonna-” 

“You’re gonna swim-” 

“Woah really?” Oliver interrupts sarcastically, “I was gonna dance.” 

"Oliver,” Michael says exasperated even though he knows that if Oliver can find it in himself to be difficult he can’t be too far-gone, “What do you want me to tell you? Tell me what I'm supposed to do for you and I'll do it then you can get some sleep."

“I wanna know what you were thinking ‘bout at the end like what got you up there to swim when everyone was like waiting for you to not do good.”

“People want you to do good Ols.”

“Yeah no.” Oliver shakes his head. “They want me to false start and forget the stroke and like drown on my way back.”

“What do you want?” 

“No.” Oliver stops him, “You’re telling me.” 

Michael hesitates. It’s hard to keep pretending he’s not talking to Oliver, hard to bring up a side of him he hasn’t really used since London. The last time he’d told Oliver what Michael Phelps thought about his swimming Oliver had blown up. 

“How d’you do it?” Oliver challenges again, “tell me like-”

"I didn’t give a fuck.” Michael says honestly, swearing in front of his kid. “You think I cared what people were saying ‘bout me? I just knew people were gonna be saying I did something that had never been done before and that's what got me up. That’s what got me on the block. That’s what got me to the wall first. I wanted to be the best and then I was. You can’t give a fuck Oliver.” 

“Yeah but I do though.” Oliver replies, unbothered by the swearing “I’m not like that I can’t not care.” 

“Then you have to figure it out by the time you’re in the ready room.” Michael says harshly, “Because there’s nothing else. You gotta care about being the best and making it count. Everything you gave up Oliver it’s not worth nothing if you don’t go tomorrow, you let yourself give up and it’s for nothing. That’s the easy part, you know you can swim.” 

“That makes no sense.” Oliver disagrees, “I gotta care.” 

“You can’t.” Michael implores, “I didn’t care. I didn’t care what Bob thought about me, I didn’t care what my mom though, I didn’t care what my boyfriend thought. I wanted to win. You know how many times I had to race against your dad for medals? I couldn’t care Oliver and I didn’t and you have to be the same. You can’t care ‘bout anything but being the best.”

“You were kind of a jerk.” Oliver offers, “I dunno if-” 

“You asked Michael Phelps.” Michael says feeling more and more ridiculous every time he has to refer to himself by name. “You know who did care?” 

“Grandma?” Oliver offers clueless. 

“Your dad cared.” Michael tells him, “You care ‘cause you want everyone to be your friend. You’re a good guy and I love it because it’s so much your dad. I don’t want this to change you.” 

Oliver nods. 

“I wouldn’t have made it without your dad.” Michael admits. “But I wanted to beat him and I know he wanted to beat me. Even when I was in love with-” 

“Gross.” Oliver scrunches his face. 

“You care they hate you?” Michael says, “Use that. Prove ‘em wrong.”

“And come home.” Oliver replies, “and eat pizza.” 

“First beat my record.” Michael asks, “So people can stop bothering me.” 

“Be the next Michael Phelps.” Oliver rolls his eyes. 

“You’re not the second Michael Phelps Ols.” Michael wraps his arm around him, “or the second Ryan Lochte. You’re the first Oliver Phelps-Lochte. Anyone else could have broken those records. I’m glad it’s you.” 

Michael doesn’t have a watch but he knows it’s late, knows that there’s no way for Oliver to get a full night sleep. He knows at this point that Ryan’s probably woken up, clued into have more space in bed than usual. He knows Ryan will be up waiting. He knows that Ryan won’t go back to sleep without him. 

“Ok.” Oliver says quiet. He unlaces his hands from behind his neck and lifts his head up, “Be my dad.” 

“Always am Bud.” Michael answers, “What do you want.” 

“To sleep.” Oliver yawns. 

“You sure you don’t want to come back?” Michael asks one last time, “I’ll wake you up.” 

“No.” Oliver refuses, “I’ll see you tomorrow and dad and Talan.” 

“We’re proud of you.” Michael kisses Oliver’s head before standing up, “I’m so proud of you.” 

“Michael Phelps proud of me?” Oliver offers his hand to Michael to be pulled up. 

“He wishes he had your backstroke.” Michael admits, pulling Oliver to his feet, “But yeah he is.” 

“Thanks for coming.” Oliver says, “I gotta go to bed.” 

“Go to sleep.” Michael pulls Oliver in for another hug, “Don’t play on your phone.” 

“I won’t-” 

“I love you.” Michael adds, “You’re my person.” 

Oliver nods but doesn’t answer, he hugs Michael back tightly for a second before fishing his key card out of his pocket. 

“Night.” Oliver says when the door unlocks. 

“Night Bud.” Michael hangs onto the door for a second, “pizza tomorrow.” 

He watches Oliver slip into the dark room and lets the door close softly behind him and then Michael is alone in the fifth floor hallway feeling like he’s sending his boy in for slaughter. 

**Baltimore, April 2014**

Michael sits on one of the kitchen stools aimlessly flicking through emails on his phone. He keeps his foot on the baby swing a few feet away, gently rocking Oliver back and forth. 

He avoids looking at Ryan if he could he wouldn’t even be in the house but getting Oliver ready to go out was exhausting and there was still a small crowd of paparazzi wandering close by. 

Michael’s suitcase is ready too but he has no plan to use it, no plan to leave. He’d told this to Ryan the night before. Their fight had been so loud a neighbour had called the police. 

Oliver’s things are ready too, half-packed in both their suitcases but Michael has no intention of letting him go. 

Ryan clears his throat behind him. 

“You serious ‘bout this?” 

“Yeah.” Michael answers not looking back. 

“You can’t keep him.” 

Michael doesn’t need to look at Ryan to know he’s pointing at Oliver. 

“I am though.” Michael’s voice stays equally calm, unemotional. He has no intention of flying to Florida and he has even less intentions of letting Oliver fly. 

“He’s fine.” Ryan argues, “His doctor said he’s good, there’s no-” 

“I don’t wanna go to Florida Ryan.” Michael argues back, letting himself be pulled into the argument despite his best intentions. “Like whatever. Come visit.” 

“This your fucking plan?” 

“I don’t have a plan Ryan.” Michael says exasperated, trying to make Ryan feel extra stupid. “I don’t want to go to Florida.” 

“This it all along? You use me to get him then you fucking close me off? This some fucking sick payback for you?” 

“I don’t.” Michael speaks extra slow, “Want to. Go to. Florida.” 

“You don’t get to keep him. He’s mine-”

“Come visit.” Michael repeats, “Weekend. Whatever.” 

“I can’t Michael.” Ryan reminds him, “I’m training.” 

“Train here.” This time Michael turns around, “Stay here and train.” 

“No.” Ryan refuses, “That wasn’t the deal. We have him here, we go back to Florida. I can’t train here.”

“I can’t live in Florida.” 

“My dad-” 

“You’re not a doctor Ryan.” Michael points out, “You know one though so-” 

“That’s what it’s about?” Ryan’s voice goes quiet, “You’re fucking sick.” 

“You’re gonna miss your flight.” 

Ryan is quiet and Michael knows he’s thinking. From his baby swing, Oliver lets out a small cry and Michael continues to rock the seat. 

“What m’I gonna tell my fam?” Ryan asks, “When you an him don’t show up?” 

“I don’t care.”

“You can’t even make formula right.” Ryan says, “He doesn’t go to sleep for you, you don’t know howta get him to stop cryin’. He’s coming with me.” 

“You’re gonna miss your flight.” Michael repeats. 

Across the kitchen Michael hears Ryan let out a strangled sob and knows he’s won. 

“You gonna let me say bye to him?” 

“He’s your kid. Free world.” Michael forces himself to say but he gets up from his stool to go stand near the front door in case Ryan decides to grab Oliver and leave. 

Michael forces himself to not listen to Ryan talking to Oliver. Forces himself to stay unfeeling, to not show how bad this hurts and how most of him knows he’s acting like a jackass. 

Ryan doesn’t try to take Oliver. He walks to the front door by himself.

“Dude… You’re not in Florida like… It’s over.” Ryan says, looking at his feet. “And I’m gonna fight for him.”  
“I won’t be in Florida.” Michael reassures. “You’re the one walking out.” 

Once Ryan is out the door, Michael walks back into the kitchen. He picks Oliver out of his swing and does a few laps of the condos with him. He holds Oliver over the place in his chest that feels like it’s breaking open. 

“So.” Michael tells his four month old, “I don’t know if that was a good choice.” 

Oliver doesn’t answer. 

“But we’d be by ourselves in Florida too.” 

Michael had been too scared to hold Oliver in the NICU. He’d focused on the more practical side of it, calling the insurance and trying to find a specialist and meeting with doctors. Ryan had been the one who’d sat by Oliver’s incubator for hours on end talking to the other parents and waiting patiently until Oliver could be touched. Ryan had been the first one to hold him and the first one to feed him while Michael watched terrified of how much of his heart was now tied with the four pound baby in the flannel blanket against Ryan’s chest. 

Ryan had put his foot down on the third day of Oliver’s life and forced Michael to sit down. Oliver had less tubes by then and got angry if his arms were trapped inside a blanket. 

“He’s gonna be good.” Ryan had said, “We’re gonna teach this guy to drive.” 

Ryan understood everything Michael was afraid of without being told. 

“I can make formula.” Michael reminds Oliver. He walks straight by the master bedroom, not ready to see it without Ryan’s things in it, “I’ll make sure your good.” 

It’s on his fourth lap that Michael realizes he doesn’t even know how Ryan got to the airport. It’s on his fifth lap that he realizes how stupid his decision was. 

“Your dad will come back.” Michael reassures Oliver, “He forgives easy.” 

Ryan had been right though and Michael’s first three bottle of formula turn out lumpy and Oliver screams as he waits. They don’t have an extra canister of formula in the house because they’d been ready to move and ten minutes after Oliver had let out his first hungry cry Michael is in the kitchen without a bottle and with no more formula powder. 

He calls his mom for help. 

“Michael.” She says confused, “You left for Florida.” 

“No.” He has to correct her and feels ashamed, “I didn’t go.” 

His mom’s silence speaks volumes about her feelings towards his life choices. 

“I need you to watch him while I go get-” He ploughs on over her silence, not having time to waste with her disapproval. 

“Why Michael.” Debbie ignores his demands, “What did Ryan do?” 

“Nothing.” Michael admits, “Ols is more important.”

 

**Rotterdam, Day 10, 4 am**

 

On the way back up to his room Michael can’t help but feel like he should have Oliver with him. Leaving an exhausted Oliver behind feels like failure and by the time he walks back into the living room of their suite Michael is fighting back tears. 

Talan is still asleep, one gangly leg hanging off his bed with his blankets pulled over his head. Michael lingers at the door of his bedroom for a bit watching him sleep taking comfort in knowing that out of the two one of his kids is absolutely fine and safe and in his care. 

He knows he can’t fall back asleep right away and surprisingly Ryan is still in bed. Michael locks himself in the bathroom connected to their bedroom. He sits on the floor leaning against the counter with his legs too long to stretch out. He’s there for ten minutes before someone tries the doorknob. 

“Mike.” Ryan sounds half asleep still but the concern in his voice is clear. He doesn’t bother knocking before trying the door again. 

“Mike.” Ryan knocks this time, “You sick?” 

Michael doesn’t answer. Instead he reaches up and unlocks the door. Ryan has it open as soon as he hears the click. 

“Hey.” Ryan says simply.

“Hi.” Michael answers. 

“You hurt?” Ryan asks closing the door behind him. He’s completely naked and it distracts Michael for a second.

“No.” Michael wipes his face with the back of his hand. “Go back to bed I’m fine.”

“Yeah you sound totally fine.” Ryan awkwardly steps over Michael’s legs and sits down on the edge of the tub to face him. “What’s up?” 

“You’re naked.” 

“It bothers you so much you’re in here cryin ‘bout it?” Ryan asks perplexed glancing down at himself, “Way harsh like it didn’t bother you when you were-” 

“No not you the-” 

“I heard you crying so I got up to check thought it was more important than clothes. How’s Gator?” 

“What?” 

“Dude.” Ryan raises an eyebrow, “Where else you’d be in Rotterdam at 2 am.” 

“He’s with Bob in my mom’s room.” Michael explains, “They took him out of the village cause the bullying got worse.” 

“He called you?” 

“Yeah.” Michael nods, “He’s so done Ry I don’t know how… I feel like I forced him-” 

“Hey no.” Ryan’s face narrows in concern when Michael’s voice breaks, “C’mere.” 

Ryan stands up and moves to be beside Michael, he pulls him close and wraps his arms him. 

“We didn’t force him.” Ryan reminds Michael, “We tried really hard to stop him.” 

“I know.” Michael reminds himself. 

“He wanted to do this. He’s doing it. We just gotta be there.” Ryan moves his legs so that Michael is sitting between them leaning back against his chest. He drops his chin on Michael’s shoulder and kisses his neck. “In like four hours.” 

“Four hours?” Michael groans, “No.” 

“Yeah.” Ryan confirms, “Come back to bed?” 

Ryan stands up first. 

“Dude your balls not on my head.” Michael complains, he brushes his hand through his hair, “Come on.” 

Ryan laughs to himself as he walks out of the bathroom but instead of getting into bed he waits on Michael’s side. 

“It’s over tomorrow.” Ryan tells him once Michael’s in front of him. He grabs the hem of Michael’s shirt and pulls it off, “Then it’s just us. Get in bed.”

“You tucking me in?” Michael raises an eyebrow but gets in bed anyways. 

“Not if you’re gonna make fun of me.” Ryan kneels on the bed beside Michael and steps over him to get to his side “Pull your own blankets up.” 

Ryan tucks one arm under his own pillow before curling the other one over Michael’s chest and intertwining their legs. After a second, Michael’s foot starts rubbing against his calf and Ryan closes his eyes, pressing his face close to Michael’s shoulder. 

“It was like talking to you.” Michael mumbles a few minutes later, “He’s havin’ a hard time ‘cause he cares.” 

“What d’you tell him?” 

“Not to change for jerks.” Michael turns his head to kiss the side of Ryan’s face, “Cause I like that he reminds me of you.” 

“When d’we get the dork back?” Ryan asks. 

“Five tomorrow. Thirteen hours.” 

 

**Rotterdam, Day 10, Final Race**

 

“Good afternoon and welcome.” The NBC commentator announces. “To what could end up being a historic afternoon here in Rotterdam. Oliver Phelps-Lochte swimming for his ninth. Yes, his ninth gold medal of these games.” 

“Oliver did not come into these games as the world champion.” The second announcer continues, “but regardless of what happens today he will be leaving as an Olympic champion. Carrying on a legacy set before him by both his parents.” 

“We have a full crowd here at the aquatic center, fans of team USA filling out the stands. Flags are everywhere and fans are ready to cheer Oliver on but all the cameras are trained on just two people-” 

“Dads Michael and Ryan, famous Olympians in their own right, who for the past two weeks have cheered harder than anyone as they’ve watched their son obliterate record after record. Erasing their names from the books to write his own-“ 

“Michael Phelps famous for winning eight gold medals in Beijing but today Oliver is swimming an event Ryan Lochte dominated for many years-” 

“Tonight Oliver is looking to not only beat Michael Phelp’s record 8 gold medals but also Ryan Lochte’s long standing backstroke speed record.” 

“This race is really telling of Oliver’s early coaching. We’ve been saying how much alike Oliver is to Michael Phelps but in this event you can’t help but see the influence Ryan Lochte’s had on him. Oliver was exclusively coached by Ryan Lochte for most of his life only making the switch to Bob Bowman recently.”

“Bob Bowman on deck today, very rarely leaving Oliver’s side, our eyes on the ground tell us Bob was with him through practice and most of the morning. You begin to wonder if this final race, if medal number nine is really where Oliver starts being overwhelmed.” 

“Rumours are flying that Oliver was not in the Athlete’s Village yesterday, that he was missing from a team meeting this morning. Oliver did not show up for an earlier press conference. All these things really are adding up to fuel the talk that at these Olympics Oliver really is getting special treatment. How much does being the progeny of famous Olympians affect the way an athlete is treated at these games?” 

“Some say it's too much pressure on a seventeen year old and over the past week we have seen Oliver essentially break down leading to an explosive press conference two days ago. His shoulder was in a brace coming into practice yesterday. Team USA refusing to give a statement on his condition. The question on everyone’s mind is… Can he do it?” 

"Many were expecting him to drop out of this event. Only six months back in the water, swimming a grueling schedule with that left shoulder many are saying isn't fully healed-” 

“We’ve had a medical expert give us his opinion on the kind of procedure Oliver could have had during prime time yesterday, saying that surgery may not have been the best choice that maybe the focus had been on getting him back in the water more quickly-” 

“Now, you've been saying since his fifth race that Oliver’s been looking more and more exhausted and his behaviour has definitely changed since his first interviews.” 

“Well, what we're looking at today is an Olympian champion, yes. Born to two of the best swimming families this country has ever seen. Both Michael and Ryan are heavily involved with two swimming clubs that have pushed countless other swimmers to the national team. You can’t forget though that we're also looking at a kid who said the other day that he just wanted to go home."

"And home is right at the other end of this wall. Oliver Phelps-Lochte, swimming for his ninth gold medal when we return." 

“I feel like I'm gonna puke." Talan groans. 

Talan sits between both his dads, right in front of Charlie. He’s back to wearing the red glasses and American flag print socks of the first day but has swapped out his shirt for one bearing Oliver’s face. It’s the dorkiest thing Ryan’s ever seen but he can’t help but be slightly jealous he hadn’t been included in the ridiculous outfit plan. 

"There's like two hundreds cameras on you Baby." Ryan tells him. He puts a hand on Talan's knee and rubs it, "So like if you do, aim for someone good." 

"Like" Talan grabs a handful of his hair, "Like it doesn't matter what he does but I want him to win so bad more than like the Superbowl. He looks tired yeah?" 

"He has a lot of people looking after him." Michael says from Tal's other side pretending he's not feeling the same way, "Your grandpa wouldn't let him swim if he wasn't good." 

"I'm not saying he's not good." Talan says frustrated, "He just looks tired like... His face I don't know...” 

"Ols is back with us tonight Baby, don't worry. He's good."

Oliver walks out of the ready room with his glance focused on the ground and headphones stuck on his head. 

“He’s good.” Ryan says again, this time addressing himself to Michael, “He’s got this.” 

“So if you don’t swim this.” Talan points out to Michael, “Why does Ols.” 

“I swim it.” Michael corrects. 

“Ols was afraid to dive off the block.” Ryan interrupts Michael to inform Talan, wanting this story to be over before the race starts, “This one starts in the water so he learned it first.” 

Satisfied by the answer, Talan turns his attention back to Oliver walking the deck below. 

“I could be down there.” Talan slumps in his seat next to Ryan and fiddles with his credentials. 

“Is that why you’ve been such a pain?” Ryan asks, “Because you’re jealous of Ols?”

“I’m not jealous.” Talan says offended, “It’s just that like I could be there. I beat him that time” 

“In four years you could.” Ryan agrees, “But you don’t want to so be happy for your brother.” 

“You think I could?” Talan says amazed. 

“If you wanted to and you trained hard, yeah. I’ve seen you swim Baby. I mean you’re not as… Ols has an easier time but you have crazy power. You’d get there.” 

“Wow.” Talan says dazed. He looks around the aquatic center and his eyes fall on the wall of cameras opposite from where they’re sitting. Most of the lenses seem to have focused on Oliver. USA chants fill the stands and it gives him chills. 

“It’s a lot.” Michael agrees with him. 

“I just really want him to win.” Talan says, “He deserves to win.” 

*

Oliver never gives anyone else a chance. He has a lead from the start and doesn’t give it up until he reaches the wall. When his name pops up in first place on the scoreboard a green WR sign pops up beside it. 

“JEAH.” Ryan screams loudly, “GATOR JEAH!” 

They’ve been yelling the same things after races for the past ten days but this time it’s different. Brady is leaning across his row to hang onto Talan and they’re both screaming loud enough for people three rows behind them to cover their ears.  
Cameramen and photographer scramble to be closer to them and this time no one cares. 

“YEAH OLIVER!” Michael reaches across Talan to grab hold of Ryan and for the first time since they’ve gotten to Rotterdam, he kisses him on camera. The flashes get stronger. 

*

It takes longer than usual for Oliver to get out of the pool. He leans against one of the lane dividers, his head resting on his arm while he tries to catch his breath. 

He feels a few swimmers clap him on the back but can’t work up the energy to look back up at them. He keeps his head down until he hears Bob’s voice. 

“Oliver.” Bob crouches by the pool, the concern in his voice is evident, “Are you okay?” 

Oliver nods but doesn’t talk. 

“We need you out of the pool.” Bob reminds him, “Don’t pull yourself out swim to the-” 

Oliver nods again before Bob is done talking. Slowly he makes his way across lanes, as soon as he’s out of the pool volunteers and security crowd around to shield him from reporters. Bob makes his way through and hugs him right away. 

“Good job!” Bob says, “You’re done. Good job champ.” 

They walk him to the warm down pool away from the press section and Bob stays at his side until they take him back for doping and to get ready for the medal ceremony. 

*

This time, Oliver’s shoelaces are tied and his podium jacket is wrinkle free. It’s a relief to both Michael and Ryan to see that Oliver’s shoulder isn’t braced. 

“Is he crying?” Michael asks once Oliver has his medal and the national anthem starts to play

“Yeah. He is.” Ryan answers quiet, bowing his head down “It’s okay Gator.” He whispers. 

“I want him back.” Michael adds. 

“Just an hour.” Ryan glances at his watch. 

Ols is off the podium and running towards the stand as soon as the anthem stops playing. He stops short seven feet below them and strains up to touch them. 

Michael watches him look around, spots the empty chairs below and quickly realizes what Oliver is planning on doing. 

"Don't Ols!” Michael says, “We'll see you in ten minutes!" 

It’s too late though and fuelled by Talan’s encouragement Oliver steps up on the chair and jumps up to grab onto the front row railing.

Both Michael and Ryan grab onto Oliver's arm instinctively because Oliver's grip doesn't look steady and help pull him over. 

"Watch your face Baby." Oliver shouts out to Talan as he kicks one of his legs up and hooks a foot. "Yeeaahh!!! I'm good" He grins. 

Three seconds later Oliver's managed to pull himself over the glass crowd barrier. Michael's still hanging onto his arm and gets to hug him first. 

"So proud Bud." He manages to say with his face down close to Oliver's hair. He palms the back of his oldest son's hair and presses it against his chest. He can see the flashes in the corner of his eyes but ignores them "Good job." 

"Atta boy Gator!!" Ryan yells. He claps Oliver on the back and hugs him close too, blocking Oliver from the cameras. He kisses Oliver's cheek and messes his already messy hair. "That's my boy! You did it!" 

Oliver's shoulders shake and he doesn't move his face away from Ryan’s chest. He reaches back to hold onto Michael. 

"You're good kid." Michael comforts, leaning his head over Oliver’s "You're coming home, you did so good. You gotta be so proud Ols. We're so proud of you." 

Oliver nods and wipes his face with the sleeve of his podium jacket, the medal hangs from his neck. 

“PHELPS.” Bob yells from the pool deck below, “GET DOWN.” 

“”He’s gonna take the safer way.” Michael calls down to Bob, “Have someone come get him? He’s not jumping-” 

“Of course he’s not jumping.” Bob repeats, “Medical wants to check his shoulder and he said he was having a hard time breathing. He needs to see them right away.” 

Michael turns back to Oliver who’s still hugging Ryan. Michael can see that Ryan’s talking to him but he can’t make out anything Ryan is saying. He puts his hand back on Oliver and pulls him away. 

"Medical wants to see you okay?” Michael holds onto the back of Oliver’s neck, “They gotta check your shoulder... Are you having a hard time breathing?” 

“You’re not good?” Ryan asks accusingly.

“It’s better.” Oliver assures, “It’s getting better.” 

“Dad or me are gonna meet you there." Michael says. He tucks the medal ribbon under the collar of Oliver's jacket. 

"You." Oliver insists quietly, "You come but I want Dad and Tal to be like where I do my interview I don't wanna like not be with you guys." 

"You got nine gold medals Baby." Ryan hugs him tight one more time, "You get whatever you want right now." 

"Good job dude." Tal says, finally getting close to Oliver. 

"You okay?" Oliver reaches for the sleeve of Talan's shirt, pulling him closer. "Baby don't cry." 

"You're crying too." Talan wipes his eyes on the shoulder of his t-shirt, he points to the medal, "Like wow." 

“Yeah.” Oliver finally grins again, “Wow.” 

Talan reaches out to touch the ribbon running his fingers down to the metal before taking his hand away. 

"You want it?" Oliver offers. He grabs the ribbon and pulls the medal over his head. 

"Nah dude." Talan holds a hand up refusing the offer, "Yo that's yours." 

"Hold onto it for me okay? If you got my medal they gotta let you in with me right away. “ Oliver rationalizes, “Don't let ‘em take the medal without you got it?" He takes the medal off and drapes it over Talan's neck.

“Hey.” Tal tries to duck away, “That’s like important I don’t wanna.” 

“No.” Oliver’s voice is firm, “You take it.” 

“You have to go Ols.” Ryan pulls him back, “Tal and I are right behind you once you’re out of medical.” 

Oliver moves along the row of his relatives, pushed by Michael towards the waiting security team. Once they’re out of the stands and in a golf cart being driven back into the athletes’ only part of the building things quiet down. 

“You breathing okay?” Michael asks concerned, “That’s never happened before.” 

“It’s okay.” Oliver reassures, “It was just bad right after… They gave me oxygen.” 

“You were on oxygen?” Michael isn’t eased by the fact. 

“I’m okay dad.” Oliver leans his head against the side of the golf cart and closes his eyes. 

Medical doesn’t seem to be as concerned about Oliver’s breathing problems as Michael is. He makes a note to bring up the issue with Oliver’s doctor when they’re back in the states and pays close attention to everything that’s said. 

Oliver wakes up two minutes before his press conference. 

“No wait.” He tells a volunteer before she shows him the way to walk up to the press table, “I gotta.” 

He unzips his podium jacket and Michael sees that he’s not wearing a team issue t-shirt. 

“I wanted to wear it on the podium but they said if I did I didn’t get my medal.” Oliver explains, “But look.” 

His shirt is black and the lettering is gold. 

“99 problems silver ain’t one?” Michael reads, “Really Oliver.” 

“Jeah.” Oliver grins.

“Did Dad get that for you?” Michael is afraid to ask.

“No.” Oliver shakes his head, “Dad doesn’t know.” 

“Dad’s gonna love it.” Michael tries not to cringe. 

Michael has a hard time believing him but doesn’t get to say anything else before Oliver is taken away. 

*

Michael makes his way into the press filled room, slinking close to the side to go join Ryan and Talan who are sitting with a Team USA staffer somewhere near the back. Oliver’s medal shines bright on Talan’s chest and Talan constantly looks down to make sure it’s still there. 

“Hold your flashes.” The press coordinator calls out, “Oliver Phelps-Lochte, Team USA.” 

They clap harder for Oliver than anyone else and Oliver searches around the room for them. He grins once he finds them. 

“Why does everyone have awesome t-shirt and no one’s sharing.” Ryan says once he catches sight of Oliver’s shirt, “come on.” 

* 

“I just… don’t know.” Oliver grins as he answers a question, “I know you want me to say a ton but it’s hard to process everything right now. I’m really tired. I’m really glad it’s over.” He admits. 

"Oliver, congratulations.” The next journalist smiles at him, “9 gold medals, 6 world records, many of them records Michael Phelps and Ryan Lochte-"

"My dads." Oliver corrects

"You had a tremendous 10 days with the world watching.” The journalist recovers, “What's next? Will you train full time and go pro?"

"No,” Oliver doesn’t hesitate, “I start Harvard in the fall and I don’t have plans to swim…. That was the deal, Olympics and Harvard. I wanted both and I worked hard to make sure I could do it. Everything worked out pretty well actually. Kind of perfect."

"So even after all the offers from-"

" I think I proved I can swim.” Oliver laughs, “My education is important to me and my family and that's my next step. I'm not in a rush to turn professional ‘cause I don't need it right away. Swimming is fun, I don't want it to be my job."

Oliver takes a drink from his water bottle to take a break from talking, he waves at Ryan before putting the water bottle down. 

“How many more questions?” He asks the press coordinator. 

“One more.” She reassures. 

“I’m sorry.” Oliver apologizes, “I just see my family and I wanna be with them.” He explains to the room full of strangers. 

"Oliver.” The last reporter says, “You're swimming next to people you probably grew up watching, who do you look up to." 

Oliver answers, "My dads... I think when you grow up with them it's hard to look up to anyone else."

 

**Rotterdam, Day 10, 8pm**

“There’s this awesome pizza place!” Talan tells Oliver. He tugs him forward by holding onto his t-shirt, “Like you wouldn’t think we would have found good pizza here but we did.” 

Oliver lets himself be pulled.

Oliver hadn’t wanted his medal back. He had fallen asleep in the car going back to the hotel and had half slept through the trip up to the room just to crash on the couch in the suite living room. Oliver slept for three hours, with Tal sitting right by him, until he’d woken up asking for food. 

Unfortunately for them, away from the village, Oliver is an easy target for the paparazzi neither Michael nor Ryan were aware had been lurking in Rotterdam. They leave the hotel without anyone noticing them but by the time they’re heading to the restaurant a small crowd is following them. 

“I’m tired. Da-ad.” Oliver whines. 

“You talkin’ to me?” Ryan turns around to face Oliver. 

“Both.” Oliver says but he teeters forward towards Ryan. He pulls one side of Ryan’s unzipped hoodie over himself.

“You can have my shirt if you’re cold Gator but I don’t think you fit in with me anymore.” Ryan laughs.

Ryan pulls off his hoodie and hands it to Oliver. 

“No.” Oliver shakes his head, he moves in closer to Ryan. “Hide me. Make them go away.” 

“Ok yeah.” Ryan puts an arm over Oliver’s shoulders and positions himself to shield his son from the cameras, “Maybe this place delivers.”

“They don’t.” Talan pleads, “Brady an me tried. We gotta wait.” 

“Yeah but,” Ryan moves to further shield Oliver when another burst of flashes goes off, “I don’t like you two being here with all the cameras. We can order food at the hotel.” 

“Not pizza!” Talan argues, “Oliver wants pizza!” 

“I don’t care Baby.” Oliver answers, “We can just go back.” 

Oliver doesn’t move away from Ryan. He puts the gray hoodie on and pulls the hood low over his face. 

“We need to pack anyways.” Michael says, “Our flights’ early.” 

Michael throws his arm around Talan’s shoulder and leads the way back to the hotel. He glances behind him to makes sure Ryan and Oliver are following. He sees that Oliver walks with his head on Ryan’s shoulder. 

It turns out that any restaurant will deliver if the person ordering has nine gold medals to their name and an hour later they’re eating the same pizza around the living room coffee table. Oliver is three bites in when he starts dozing off. 

“No way Gator.” Ryan gently shakes him awake, “You lost too much weight to not be eating dinner.” 

“I’m too tired to chew.” Oliver complains. 

“I’m sure the kitchen has a blender.” Ryan jokes, “Pizza smoothie.” 

“I can chew for you.” Talan offers, “Like a bird just like-” He opens his mouth to show his chewed up bite of pizza.

“That’s so gross dork.” Oliver says disgusted. He picks his pizza slice back up, takes a bite, chews and then smiles big, “Happy.” He asks Ryan with his mouth full. 

“Finish your plate and yeah.” Ryan says unmoved, “Seriously Oliver, you know you have to eat.” 

After most of the pizza is gone, they have to start packing. Oliver is already done and instead of staying in the living room or heading off to bed he settles himself to watch television on Michael and Ryan’s bed. 

“You breathing okay?” Michael asks, opening his suitcase right next to Oliver’s legs. 

“Yes.” Oliver says impatiently, “I’m fine.” 

“He’s not breathing okay?” Ryan asks walking out of the bathroom with both their toiletry bags. He hands one to Michael before walking over to his suitcase, “You good Ols?” 

“Yes.” Oliver says exasperated, “Can we let it go?” 

“Yeah Gator.” Ryan assures.

Ryan puts his toiletry bag on the top of his suitcase and closes it. He moves it to the floor and settles himself beside Oliver on the bed. Before the next commercial break comes on; Oliver is asleep. 

“Hey.” Michael nudges Oliver, “Want to go sleep in your own bed?” 

“No.” Oliver grumbles, “M’comfy.” 

Oliver’s head rests right against Ryan’s side, his face buried in a pillow. Ryan strokes his hair. 

“You have a bed.” Ryan reminds him. 

“This m’bed.” Oliver argues. 

“It’s our bed.” Michael corrects him, “Come on, get up.” 

“No.” Oliver shakes his head against Ryan.

“Gator.” Ryan pulls at his pillow, “You’re not sleeping here, you’re not three. Let’s go to your bed.” 

With a little more convincing Oliver is on his feet walking slowly across the living room to go lie down in the bed that’s been unoccupied for the past eleven days. He toes off his sneakers but doesn’t bother getting under the covers. 

“Do I gotta go to bed too?” Talan asks, “Cause I’m not tired I could like-” 

“We have an early flight Tal.” Michael crosses to Talan’s side of the room and looks around to make sure Talan’s done packing, “You should go to bed too.” 

Talan looks across the room to Oliver who’s already mostly asleep on top of his blankets before looking back at Michael. 

“Fine.” He says. Talan puts the sketchpad he’d been drawing in on his bedside table and slips his legs under his blankets. 

Michael tugs Talan’s blankets up and tucks them under him, something he hasn’t done in ages. When he fixes Tal’s pillow he sees the edge of a navy blue ribbon peaking out. 

“You’re gonna keep that safe.” Michael asks pointing to the medal. 

“I don’t even want it!” Talan argues wide-eyed, “He won’t take it back!” 

“Then keep it safe.” Michael conditions, “Night Baby.” 

“Why d’you tuck me in?” Talan fights against the tight blankets, kicking his legs until he’s free. “I’m not five!” 

“Just go to-” 

“Dad’s gonna come say bye?” Talan asks. 

“Yes.” Michael crosses to the other side of the room, “Dad’s coming over.”

Oliver is sleeping and Michael can’t free any of the blankets to cover him up so he lets him be. 

* 

He keeps packing while Ryan goes to say goodnight and is mostly done when Ryan comes back in. 

“Gave Ols some painkillers.” Ryan informs Michael, “He doesn’t get another dose ‘till morning. They’ll make him sleep.”

“I think I got everything.” Michael scans the room for forgotten personal items, “I checked Tal’s side of the room too.” He pulls his closed suitcase off the bed and rolls it towards the door. 

“So we’re all set?” Ryan asks. 

“Yeah.” Michael yawns, “Gotta be up at six.” 

“You and Ols ditching us in New York?” 

“You and Tal can stay with us.” Michael offers.

“Tal wants to be in Florida.” Ryan shrugs, “We’ll meet you there to fly to Costa Rica.” 

They’ve planned one last family trip before Harvard. Leaning slightly more towards something Tal had wanted to do; surfing. Before the trip though Oliver has a press in New York. 

Ryan and Michael get into bed and Michael reaches for Ryan pulling him close. 

“We made it.” He says, nuzzling the side of Ryan’s face. 

“I’m glad it’s over.” Ryan yawns. “S’harder being the parents.” 

Michael nods in agreement. 

“Thanks.” Michael says. He wants to elaborate and apologize and tell Ryan how grateful he is that he’s made it through another Olympic with him but all he can think of is thanks. 

“For what?” Ryan laughs. 

“Everything. Like the dorks and-” 

Ryan shakes his head, refusing to take the credit and Michael stops. 

“We did good.” Ryan says instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Afterword
> 
> Proud didn’t start as a story. It started as emails between mugglemiranda. Mostly everything in this fanfic evolved over for over a year. Anything that happens in this fic probably started off by me typing: "Ok so... Imagine if..." 
> 
> I think the very first part of Proud I wrote is the part where Talan says that he could be on deck. It was written at the very, very bottom of my kidfic word document and it was the very first time I ever entertained the idea that maybe they could have a second child. From that tiny little part, Proud evolved. 
> 
> There are probably a hundred sub plots that didn’t make the final cut ( a security guard named Jason, Michael breaking into the athlete's village, Bob and Debbie having Oliver with them in Baltimore, the relationship between Oliver and Hillary) and at least a few thousand words that are still in there just because mugglemiranda insisted they not be cut. 
> 
> Fleshing out the emails into stories was an intimidating task, Essentially, everything started off looking a little like this: 
> 
>  
> 
> _Oliver's so tired by the time they get him back, like by his last two races Michael and Ryan can tell he's kind of done and it's taking everything Bob has to keep him going for those last few races. Ryan probably doesn't even complain when Oliver says he doesn't want the hoodie. He's not cold, he's just tired and sore and he doesn't want to be Oliver anymore, he just wants to be their kid. Ryan probably laughs and tells him he's gotten kind of big to get picked up and Oliver just whines some more and puts his head against ryan's chest and closes his eyes. I think the first camera flash he sees he decides that they can just eat room service, he wants to not be somewhere where people can see him. He falls asleep on the couch against Tal while they wait for food._
> 
> _Oliver's probably so tired he doesn't know what to do with himself. He's following Michael and Ryan around everywhere and that's how he ends up on their bed he wants someone to like pet his hair and let him fall asleep and he's being a pain and not going to sleep. Oliver's body is probably like beaten down and I think he has no problems telling people he doesn't want to see a pool for awhile. The next morning he's still sleeping around like two pm and they have to wake him up because like there's no way he's gonna sleep through the night and it's like he's still a baby. They probably want to head back to the states but Ols wants to do the closing games.”_
> 
> I never thought anyone but mugglemiranda and I would want to read this, I wrote it mostly for the both of us because our emails and our text messages got me through some pretty tough times. This is mostly more original fic than fanfiction but I tried to include real life Michael and Ryan moments in it.
> 
>  
> 
> I never wanted to actually write this story, what I wanted was to write the story that comes right after this one but mugglemiranda insisted nothing would make sense without this and now, I agree. 
> 
> Oliver and Talan’s characters changed drastically as Proud evolved, many of the earlier Oliver fics no longer fit into the cannon, mostly because they were written pre-Talan and as a lot of you have said, Talan changed everything.
> 
> I’m rambling now. What I wanted to say was simply a gigantic thank you to mugglemiranda for being one of my best friends and to all of you for reading, commenting and leaving kudos.
> 
>  
> 
> _It really, truly means a lot and I’m incredibly grateful._


End file.
